A Pawn in the Game
by NeonNinja
Summary: BOOK/MOVIE AU! Kili is taken captive by orcs and the company is made to believe that he is dead. Grief-stricken, they must carry on their quest without him. But Kili still lives and the orcs have no intention of killing him, instead they have a far more sinister plan for him. Lots of Hurt!Kili and Kili!whump with Protective/brotherly!Fili. Also, prepare for much Durin family feels
1. Taken

_No, Thorin._

Kili watched with dread as Thorin was tossed through the air like a broken doll, landing in a heap with a dull was still clinging to the tree which had fallen on its side and was hanging perilously over the edge of the cliff with hundreds of feet of blackness bellow it, being held in place only by its strong roots. Kili's heart thumped like a drum in his chest, he could hear his heartbeats over the sounds of the roaring flames and the cries of the rest of the company as they clung desperately to the branches, feet kicking uselessly in the air. But it wasn't the prospect of falling, or of being burnt, not even of being torn to shreds by the snapping jaws of wargs that sent waves of panic up his spine. It was watching his uncle, who now pushed himself shakily up onto his elbows, struggle to fight the gigantic pale orc, Azog the Defiler. The orc was still sat on the back of his fearsome white warg, with a foul sneer on his scarred face. It made Kili's stomach lurch. There was so much evil and hate in the creature's eyes and they bore into Thorin like daggers. Hungry for blood and the taste of stolen life. Azog's pale skin glowed orange in the firelight and his teeth glinted as he looked down upon Thorin with an evil grin. The survival instinct that kept Kili clinging to the tree was abruptly overruled by the uncontrollable impulse to protect his uncle. Kili knew that his inexperience in battle meant that he would be no match for Azog, but if he could distract the orc long enough for Thorin to regain his composure and strength then it would feel like less of a gamble. He would not stay up the tree and watch his uncle be killed while they were still so early into their quest. Kili's mind was set. He pushed himself up and walked down the tree trunk, which lay almost entirely flat, with determined strides, releasing his sword from its sheath on his hip. The blade glinted in the firelight. He didn't listen to the voice of his brother as Fili called his name, his world consisted of just three things; himself, Thorin and Azog. And by the end of this, if it all went right, there would only be him and Thorin.

Thorin reached for his sword which had fallen from his grasp, a dull pain throbbing in his side. He clutched at his ribs with a quiet wince as a waft of rancid air blew on the back of his neck. The white warg was glowering down at him, yellow eyes shining and mouth watering hungrily. A growl emanated from deep within the beast's throat as it waited for its master to allow it to feast on the dwarf. Azog could feel the ravenous desire of the hound as the warg's chest swelled and shrank with deep breaths. The corners of his mouth pulled upward. But Thorin's face was a steely mask, and he simply stared past the warg's head to lock eyes with him in a defiant and hateful glare. He would like nothing more than to relieve the orc's shoulders of its hideous head, like he had his grandfather. Revenge dominated the exiled king's thoughts, and it would be sweet. But Azog had no intention of dying that night and raised his sword, the dirty blade reflecting the glow of the flames. He snarled something in Black Speech, teeth bared like a wild animal. His attention was fixed so intensely on the dwarf that he didn't notice the figure darting at him through the dark and smoke. Suddenly he was propelled off his warg and wrestled to the ground, his weapon landing on the rock with a clatter, by another, much younger dwarf. Azog growled and flung the dwarf away with one strong swish of his arm before moving to pin him down, angered that the he'd taken away his opportunity to slay Thorin.

Kili was pushed into the ground, Azog's weight preventing him from escaping. But he kept his features impassive, save for the glint of loathing in his brown eyes. He felt hatred bubble in his stomach for Azog and all that he had done to his family and the line of Durin, his uncle's hatred of the vile creature had imprinted itself into Kili's consciousness. Azog studied the dwarf in his grasp with a grim fascination. He was very youthful and daring, and different to the others; he was much smaller in build, Azog could feel the bones of the dwarf through his thick, fur-lined coat. He appeared more like an elf than a dwarf, in both features and slightness. But none-the-less, he was dwarf scum and was to be eradicated. With a scowl he reached to retrieve his sword from where it had fallen. Kili saw the blade flash and tried to squirm away with alarm, groaning as he tried to move away, but Azog's grip was iron. The sword glinted again and, with a growl, Kili kicked Azog in the chest with his heavy boots, sending the orc stumbling backwards. Kili pushed himself onto his feet and twirled his own weapon in his hands, beckoning Azog to attack. He may have been young and with none of the experience of Thorin or Dwalin or many of the other elder dwarves, but his skill with the blade was excellent. Azog eyed him with frustration before darting forward with a lash of his sword. There came the loud clang of colliding weapons as Kili rose his sword above him to block the blow, he twisted his blade and forced the orc's towards the ground. Azog pulled it away and bore his eyes into the young dwarf before him, his stare dark and calculating. Kili drummed his fingers on the handle of his sword as he pointed it at Azog who lunged forward at him again with an animal-like snarl, slashing at Kili's arm when he rose it to elevate his own sword in defence. The dwarf bit back a cry, he could feel the sting of the flesh wound and the warmth of blood pooling under his sleeve, he could feel it running down the underside of his arm. He jumped back and ducked to avoid Azog's next swipe, he could feel the air move as the sword passed inches above his head.

Thorin's heart froze. _What was he doing_? He watched as his reckless, senseless nephew faced down the pale orc alone. Was Kili really foolish enough to think he could defeat Azog by himself? A mixture of fear and rage surged through him as he grabbed the handle of his sword and jumped to his feet with a growl of frustration. The embers of the fire fell around him, ash coming to rest on his shoulders like sizzling hot snowflakes. The edges of the cinders still glowing a blazing orange. He could feel the heat of the flames on his face as figures began darting through the smoke with shouts and glinting weapons. They dashed forward, swinging their swords and axes at advancing orc and wargs, delivering heavy blows with loud cries. Dwalin came to stand beside Thorin and gave him a concerned stare which he shrugged off with a curt "I'm fine." Dwalin sighed, knowing all too well the stubbornness of his king, he wouldn't accept aid until the battle was over. He followed Thorin's gaze.

"What is he doing?" He said, with something between a gasp and a growl, staring at Kili who swung his sword, whith a fierce flash of reflecting firelight, at Azog, who blocked his attempt and pushed him away.

"Being an _idiot." _Thorin spat. He pushed past Dwalin with a low growl, eyes glued on his youngest nephew. He griped the handle of his sword so tight that his knuckles turned white. Stupid. Irresponsible. Reckless. _As always. _From the corner of his eyes Thorin caught the familiar shine of golden hair amongst the shapes of the fight. Fili was darting towards his brother, throwing all oncoming orcs out of his path with a fierce lash of his sword. Nothing was going to get in his way. Nobody but Thorin who abruptly changed course. He already had one nephew acting foolishly, he did not need the other to do the same.

Fili's attention was completely fixed on Kili, facing down the pale orc alone. He watched as his brother effortlessly sidestepped the swipe of Azog's scimitar, it didn't even brush the edges of his jacket. Kili twirled his blade in two circular motions, in the taunting way he always challenged his opponents. No doubt the action was coupled with his roguish smile. Fili had seen them both enough when they practised fighting with weapons back home, and they had always managed to incite another blow. Which Azog didn't hold back from; he elevated his weapon above his head before bringing it down in a quick, sweeping movement. The blade whistled in the air before being met by Kili's own sword with a clang. Fili suddenly lost his momentum as he was pulled roughly back and to a standstill, he could feel something tugging at the collar of his coat. He roughly pulled away and spun, weapon ready, expecting to see an orc stood before him. It wasn't an orc. It was Thorin, looking at him sternly, shaking his head.

"Why did you stop me?" He probed, "We need to help Kili!"

"_We_ don't have to do anything. _You _stay here, _I _will go and help your brother." Thorin's tone was final but Fili opened his mouth to protest, as much as he trusted his uncle, he would feel better if he was fighting beside Kili too. But any words were quickly blocked by a loud shriek. It was not a sound that belonged to any dwarf, orc or warg. The pair's eyes flicked upwards to see huge shadows coming towards them through the smoke and light of the fire and oncoming sunrise. They swooped down, the air around them churning and blowing, fallen leaves scuttled across the floor and the flames swayed and flickered. Instinctively, Thorin grabbed his nephew's wrist and pulled Fili behind him. He watched the shadows with apprehension, sword held tightly in his grasp. _Eagles. _The shapes were eagles, huge birds with each wing longer than almost two wargs and with great talons like thick, curved blades, glinting dangerously. They soared and dived, throwing wargs and orcs through the air, picking them up and dropping them from a great height. Then the great beasts' attention switched to the dwarves as they began picking them from the ground, with no small amount of wriggling and cursing, and letting them fall onto the feathered back of another. Confusion overcame Thorin, brows knitting together. Until he noticed Gandalf. The grey clad wizard was perched upon the back of a bird with brown-tipped feathers, his features calm, his posture relaxed. He had sent for them, realising the peril facing the company. Thorin could not help his frustration, did the wizard not trust them, not trust _him_? But it was too late as now most of the party were in the air, away from the dangers of the mountainside.

Azog kicked at Kili while his attention was on the huge birds, foot landing against the dwarf's chest with a crack of the ribs. Kili cried out as he tumbled through the air, collapsing on the hard ground. The force of the blow left him winded and gasping for breath, the world was suddenly a spinning land of blurring and intermixing colours, all sound muffled beneath a loud ringing that struck his skull like knives. He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged in a deep, painful breath. Azog eyed the eagles with infuriation, they were making easy work of the orcs, tossing them through the air like lifeless corpses, and taking the dwarves in their hold, high off the ground and far away from where any orc blade could reach. _The dwarves were getting away. _Azog roared an animal-like roar, shaking his fist at the creatures. He heard Kili cough, heaving in deep, rasped breaths. _That one_ would not get away. He approached the young dwarf and pointed the tip of his blade at his chest, at the area above his thundering heart.

"Kili!" Fili pulled away from his uncle's grasp and moved towards Kili, laying on the ground, propped up on shaking elbows, trying to edge away from Azog's sword. Kili's eyes were wide and his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts. Thorin made after Fili, ready to impale the pale orc, to slice off his remaining hand. Sweat had built up on his brow from the searing heat of the flames. He would have been thankful for the sudden breeze upon the back of his neck had it not been followed by giant talons gripping him across his middle and lifting him, as he ran, from the hard ground. It was a strange sensation to suddenly have nothing beneath his feet, for them to kick at open air, and to see the land shrink beneath him. Fili was clutched in the clawed foot of the same eagle beside him, struggling against the tightness of the hold. But it wasn't the fear of suddenly being lifted into the air, or of what the eagle was going to do to him that caused his attempts for freedom. It was his brother shrinking below him as they got higher, Azog still stood above him, looking down at Kili with a cruel smirk. "Kili!" He rose his fist to hit at the eagle's leg, he thumped at it hard, desperation surging through him like a swollen river. Then they were free falling, hearts feeling like they were incapable of keeping up with the rest of their bodies as they fell. Thorin reached for Fili as they were in mid-air, pulling him close and holding him to his chest. Then there was something beneath them, something warm and alive, as they landed in a mass of windblown feathers. But Fili felt no relief as he scrambled to the edge of the bird, Thorin pulling at his jacket, fearing his nephew, in his panic, would fall again and would this time plummet back down to the earth. Fili's heart stopped mid beat. Azog had lowered his weapon and the remaining orcs descended on Kili like ants to a piece of honey. They grabbed at him as he hopelessly struggled against them, trying to back away, swiping at them with fist and sword and attempting to land failed kicks. "Why aren't the eagles helping him!?" Fili cried, his whole body beginning to tremble with alarm. He switched his gaze momentarily to Gandalf, whose eagle was flying, unfazed by the dwarf's desperate screams, beside his and Thorin's. "Gandalf! Make them turn around! Make them go back for him!" But the wizard simply looked quickly over his shoulder and then stared at Fili with expressionless features. The eagles had a set course, they had no intention of going back. Fili turned his head back to the vanishing sight, in time to witness the orcs turn Kili onto his front, strip him of all his weapons and bind his hands behind his back, before wrenching him roughly up into a standing position. Even from this distance Fili could see that his little brother was looking straight at him, watching him get further and further away. "We can't leave him! KILI!" Fili's voice cracked and tears began to swell in his eyes, blurring his vision. The eagles weren't going to change direction, no matter how much he yelled and pleaded. He reached out a hand, as though he would be able to reach Kili. But his brother was simply dragged away into the trees and out of sight. "KILI! NO!"


	2. Alone

They must have been trudging through the forest, the tip of a sword pressing into Kili's back, keeping him marching forward, for more than an hour and he had finally given up struggling against the orcs. There were too many of them, and he had been bound and stripped of his weapons. His eyes shifted briefly around him to see his bow, arrows and sword slung over the back of a particularly grotesque looking orc, with gnarled features and only one eye. His knives stuffed into its belt. Kili's stomach twisted with hatred and anger. He wanted so much to fight against them, to lash out and scream all manner of vile curses at them, but that, he knew, would only result in the orcs becoming angered and they wouldn't hesitate to show him their infuriation. His body ached enough as it was. Until he could come up with a real plan he would  
bite his tongue and go where they told him to in order to avoid provoking them. But even so, he clenched and unclenched his fists – which had been tied behind his back- moving his wrists in circular motions, in an attempt to loosen the bonds and relieve the agonising tightness. But the rope was thick and unyielding, it dug into his flesh with every movement. Kili could feel itbiting into him, gradually tearing his burning skin. He kept his head down, staring up at Azog, who rode at the front of the troop on his white warg, through the gaps of his hair. Every now and again the orc would turn to monitor him, but Kili didn't look away, simply shot Azog his most venomous glare, letting the vile creature just how much he loathed him. Azog would just sneer at him and look away, obviously the feeling was mutual. Kili wondered what the pale orc's plan for him was. Azog _must_ have had a plan, or Kili wouldn't still be breathing. He had heard tales of what orcs did to their prisoners, the brutal torture and malicious emotional trauma. He knew he would suffer the same. The orcs would interrogate him, ask him questions about Thorin and the company, put him through agony until he snapped and spilled out all he knew. _No_, Kili shook his head, they could do whatever they wanted but he would keep the information behind sealed lips. They wouldn't break him. He straightened his shoulders and held his head high, altering his features to wear his most resolute, steely expression. Forcing the impression of indestructible tenacity and courage. But that was all it was, an _impression_. For deep down fear surged within him. For the first time since he left his home in Ered Luin, he was afraid. He was afraid because he was alone, trapped and striped of his weapons, surrounded by orcs that could kill him at any moment. But mainly he was afraid because there was no Fili to give him a reassuring nod or smile. If his brother had been with him the situation wouldn't have felt so grim.

_Fili_. His heart stung. Where was his brother now? How far away had the eagles taken him? Kili had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent them from watering. How much he yearned for the strong, comforting presence of his older brother. To even feel Fili brush up against him in a small act of reassurance. To hear the sounds of his even, steady footsteps behind his own. To hear Fili whisper comforting words that only they could make out. But he was alone. Completely and terrifyingly alone. Kili dragged in a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands. The company would come for him, he knew they would. Fili would _never_ allow them to abandon him. All Kili had to do was stay quiet and compliant and try not to give any cocky retorts that would anger his captors. But the young dwarf was impetuous and impatient, he didn't do well with being confined to one place for too long and had an overwhelming compulsion to answer back to snide comments and unpleasant individuals. It was something that he'd always had, something he was forever being scolded for. It was something that he'd have to bury until help came.

* * *

They _left_ him! Why did they _leave_ him? He was alone, _Kili was alone_!

Fili had struggled and pulled against his uncle's firm grip, his chest heaving with sobs and gasped breaths, for a long while after the billowing smoke and flames had vanished into the distance. Fili had shouted his brother's name over and over, demanding that they turn around until his voice was hoarse and his throat stung. His eyes burnt and blurred with tears and there was a pounding in his skull like hammers. His head began to swim as a million different thoughts crowded his mind, the image of the orcs swarming and congregating around his younger brother, who desperately tried to fight them off, flashing in his vision over and over again. He shook his head, _this wasn't right_! There he was, perched on the back of the eagle traveling towards safety, whilst his little brother was in the possession of an orc pack, led by the pale orc, the one whose name made their uncle's fist clench into tight balls, and chest constrict with fury. Azog. Who no doubt had plans for Kili that Fili didn't dare comprehend. And with every flap of the eagle's huge wings he was getting further and further away from him, further and further away from being able to protect him. _This wasn't right_. At last Fili's fighting ceased and he collapsed into Thorin's hold, defeated and scared. He clutched tightly to the eagle's soft feathers in a vain attempt to stop his hands from shaking. Thorin wrapped his arms around his nephew's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He listened to Fili's heavy breaths and felt how he trembled from head to toe. He could feel the panic emanating from him like the icy waves of a rushing, winter river.

Fili couldn't remember the rest of the journey, all he knew was that the sun had risen and Thorin was still clutching onto him when the eagles began to slow and descend, dipping swiftly in a motion that would have made Fili's heart plummet in his chest, if it didn't already feel like lead. The birds flew towards a lonely, rocky peak, surrounded in all directions by forest and grassy planes. If it wasn't for the circumstance, Fili would have found it a breath-taking sight. How the morning sun shone with golden rays on green and russet leaves, dancing off a thin, winding stream. Even from this height, he could smell the sweet scent of the woodland below. Finally the eagles came to rest on the peak and the dwarves clambered from their backs, glad to have their feet on the ground once again. Ori went to pat his bird with gratitude but suddenly felt very unnerved by the animal's huge beady eyes staring at him. Dori swiftly pulled his brother away from it. The bird's head jerked to the side before it spread its wings again and lifted from the ground. Fili was the last to dismount, needing to be coaxed and pulled down by Thorin and Dwalin, as he continued to sit stiffly on the bird's back, fingers still curled into its feathers.

"Come on lad." Said Dwalin, reaching up his arms as though Fili was a child, "I'm sure the animal has had enough of having someone on its back." But the blonde dwarf didn't move, his mind still leagues away and overflowing with terrifying thoughts. Dwalin heard Thorin sigh from beside him.

"Fili," the king said sternly, "come down now. _Now Fili._" The bird was starting to become impatient, shifting restlessly on its thin legs and folded wings twitching, as the others hovered or circled above. They were silhouetted against the sun and casted the oddest shadows on the ground. They cawed loudly, eager to move off. Eventually Fili nodded and shifted to slide down the side of the eagle, careful not to pull out any of its feathers. Thorin held a hand out to steady him as he landed, which was just as well as he swayed slightly upon impact with the rocky ground. The force stung the soles of his feet. Not waiting for the dwarves to step away, the bird immediately pushed off the ground and flew quickly up towards its friends. Its flapping wings sending a torrent of air towards them, it blew through their hair and made the edges of their jackets sway and flap. They rose their arms in front of their faces to stop pieces of dirt from blowing into their eyes.

"Where are they going? Are they going to get Kili?" Fili spoke with quiet desperation, his throat still stinging too much for him to raise it higher than a mumble. His fingers twitched at his sides as he watched the birds disappear to the east. Not the direction they came from. Panic surged within him again. His eyes locked on Thorin who stared at the ground beneath his anxious glare. There was a silence, a loud, unbearable silence and nobody seemed able to meet Fili's eyes. It was Gandalf who spoke finally.

"No." His voice was regretful and low, he drummed his fingers on his staff and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "No, they are not." Fili span on his heels to face the old wizard, his shoulders rising and falling with quick breaths and hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

"Why? Why didn't they rescue him like they did us? Why did they just …"

"There was nothing they could do." Gandalf tried to keep his voice steady. "Kili was already overwhelmed by the orcs, there was no guarantee they would have been able to reach him."

"So they just left him behind? They could have turned around for him!"

"No, they couldn't. I asked them to bring us here and only here. They would do no more than what was asked of them. And they wouldn't risk it."

"_Risk?_ What risk? They were _huge_ birds and there was so many. There would have been no risk!"

"My dear boy …"

"_Do not_ call me that." Fili spat. Gandalf straightened his back and stared at the young dwarf, his mouth a thin line. The blonde's fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white and his fingernails dug into his palms. Fili's usual calm demeanour was cracking, anger threatening to burst through and overcome him. Thorin saw how the oncoming fury made his nephew's balled fists shake at his sides as he tried to keep it at bay, not wanting to snap in front of everyone.

"Fili," he said quietly, gripping Fili's elbow, feeling how it trembled. "It's alright."

"_Alright?"_ Fili spun to look at him. Thorin's breath caught at his nephew's stare. His blue eyes were alive with fear and panic and anger, a dangerous mix that, with every heaved breath, threatened to overwhelm him. "How is it alright? The orcs have my brother!" Thorin reached out to place a hand on his shoulder but Fili hit it away. "You shouldn't have stopped me when I was running to him! I could have helped!"

"_Or_ the orcs could have got both of you."

"But at least he wouldn't be alone! He's _alone_ Thorin, alone with _them._ With … with Azog. If he finds out who Kili is, if they find out he's your nephew, they'll kill him! Or in the very least torture him for information. We cannot let them do that to him!" Fili's voice cracked, the prospect of his little brother being harmed, with him too far away to prevent it or offer comfort, made his heart hurt and stomach tighten. "We need to go back."

"We have no idea where they've gone, they could be anywhere." Dwalin said, eyes flicking quickly back in the direction they had just travelled. He folded his arms over his chest and steeled his features, not wanting to let the uneasiness show on his face. Orcs moved fast, especially if they were traveling with Wargs.

"Exactly! We have to go _now_ before they get too far away."

"We have to rest, to build our energy back up." Thorin said, ignoring the look Fili suddenly flashed him. He didn't want to see the look of disbelief, he didn't want to look at those panicked blue eyes. Instead he glanced about him, letting his gaze travel over the rest of the company. He was right, they needed to rest, they all seemed exhausted, their eyes dark and sunken with fatigue. The events of the last day, the Storm Battle, Goblin Town and the fight with the Orcs, had taken their toll."We will take some hours to rest, find something to eat, get some sleep. Recover."

"Eat? Sleep? Recover? Do you think the orcs will let Kili do any of those things? No!"

"Fili." Thorin said firmly, "None of us are fit enough to begin the trek back right now. We will find your brother, I promise, but we are not leaving until the morning. When everyone is well."

"The morning? That's not good enough!" Fili bellowed, suddenly all of the anger that had been building up began to burst from him in a furious wave that made everyone stiffen, not used to this unfamiliar tone. "He could be _dead _by morning! You _hate _Azog! He's already killed your grandfather," Thorin felt a stab of pain at the memory of Thror's demise. The image that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could remember, that had bittered him and hardened his heart "Caused your father to disappear and now he has your nephew! Are you really going to leave Kili with him for so long?! You know the type of things those beasts do to their prisoners." Fili ran his hands through his blonde hair, tugging at the golden strands. "Kili isn't even of age yet! He's still little more than a child!"

"Yes, a child!" Thorin snapped, suddenly feeling his own rage. "A stupid, impulsive child who recklessly and idiotically thought he could take on Azog alone! He brought this on himself, if he had stopped to think then he wouldn't be in this mess. Perhaps this will show him what being reckless can result in!" There was a quiet and simultaneous gasp from the group. Then, with a loud, animal growl, a sound unlike any Fili had ever made before, he lunged for Thorin, fist hitting him square in the jaw and sending him to the ground.

"How dare you say those things! How _dare _you!" Fili saw red as rage overcame him and moved to pin his uncle where he lay, taken aback by hisnephew's uncharacteristic outburst. "You heartless bastard! That's Kili, your _nephew_, my _b_r_other _you're talking about! Your family!" He balled his fists up in Thorin's jacket and shook him and pushed him against the rock. "How can you say that?" Fili had never felt anger so strong. It made him tremble and feel sick, it clouded his judgement and forced out any other emotion. But he simply didn't understand how his uncle could say something so cruel. _Perhaps this will show him what being reckless can result in_. The words resonated in his ears and they hurt. In that moment he _hated_ Thorin, wanted to hit him again. He raised his arm, ready to bring his fist down again, but something stopped him, a hand grabbed his wrist a strong arm snaked itself around his waist. He was pulled away, still screaming at his uncle, his voice venomous and full of fury.

It was Dwalin, holding him close to his chest, his hold so tight that it ached. But Fili still struggled and kicked and cursed.

"Stop it!" Dwalin hissed in his ear. He had _never _seen Fili act this way, and it scared him to see. Fili was usually so composed, he had never been so plainly enraged. It wasn't right. "Come on now," Dwalin tried to keep his voice level, "getting angry is not going to help." Fili's fighting ceased and he stopped trying to resist his hold, but Dwalin still held onto him, feeling how his chest heaved with ragged, deep breaths.

"He did it to protect you! You're his uncle, but he looks up to you as if you were his father! He did it because he _loves _you and couldn't bear to see you get injured!" Fili shot Thorin his most venomous glare, "And it is plain to see that you do not feel the same way." Fili's struggling had completely stopped and Dwalin's grip slackened. Thorin slowly got to his feet, shrugging away Balin and Gloin who had attempted to help, seeing how their king winced with pain. He stood stiffly, looking at his nephew, the blonde was furious and red faced.

"Are you suggesting that I do not love him?"

"It's obvious." Fili wasn't shouting now, and pulled away from Dwalin who eyed him nervously, prepared to reach out and grab him again if he returned for another assault. "If you truly cared for Kili you wouldn't think twice before going back for him, instead you stand there saying that he _deserves _this. How could you even _think _that?" Fili squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, sucking in deep, steadying breaths. With each intake of air he allowed himself to calm slightly. But against his closed lids he saw the image of Kili being dragged away by the orcs, alone and weaponless. "I will not rest knowing that my little brother is in the hands of orcs." Opening his eyes he turned to stare at the rest of the company, who all seemed pale and wide eyed, not used to his explosion of anger. He was the calm, rational one. The last person they'd expect this behaviour from. Many of them could not meet his gaze. "Dori, Nori." He said quietly. Both dwarves gulping at the sound of their names being spoken by the enraged prince. "What if it had been Ori who had been taken? Would you be happy to leave him alone to suffer?" Dori didn't even need to consider it. He would never condemn either of his younger brothers to the pain that Kili was undoubtable going to endure. He placed a hand on Ori's shoulder and squeezed it. The colour had vanished from red haired dwarf's cheeks at the very prospect of being a prisoner of the orcs. He gulped.

"No." Dori said, quietly but definitely. He would sacrifice himself before he let harm befall his youngest brother.

"Exactly. We all have our family with us on this journey. And mine, the most important person in the _world_ to me, and the person I swore to protect, has been taken." Fili turned to face Thorin, whose posture had slumped. "Please Thorin," He begged, "we _cannot _abandon him." Thorin studied his nephew, noticing how his hands still trembled at his sides and his breathing remained quicker than usual. There was so much desperation in those blue eyes. And there was also fear. Fili was _never _afraid, or if he ever was he never let it show so plainly on his face. But that was for his brother's benefit. If Kili saw his strong, brave older brother afraid then he would know something was very wrong. And terror would grip him like a vice. Everything Fili did was for him. But now he didn't need to hide his fear. Thorin also saw how tired Fili had become, suddenly looking like he hadn't slept in days. The rest of the company also looked close to collapse, their exhausted legs struggling to keep them standing, desperate to sit down, to lay down and rest. The dwarves and the hobbit, and even Gandalf, appeared to have aged some years with fatigue. What use, Thorin thought, would they be in fighting the orcs again in this state?

"We will go and find Kili." He paused, knowing his next words could send his nephew into another fit of rage. He straightened his back. "In the morning." But Fili didn't get angry, he didn't lash out or raise his voice. He heard the finality in Thorin's voice, knowing his mind was set. Instead, with his jaw tight and fists curled, he strode towards Thorin, stopping when they were mere inches apart and stared into his brown eyes.

"If _anything _happens to him," He said slowly, "I will _never _forgive you."

**- AUTHOR'S NOTE -**

**So, chapter two. Woooo! I'm gonna try to update weekly, rather than daily (as I did with my last FF) because the chapters are longer.**

**Thanks for the reviews you've left so far, I really appreciate your feedback.****A few of you said that the paragraphs were too big and were hard to read so I hope this one is better, if not let me know. It was a little hard because there was quite a bit of speech here but yea, let me know. **

**I hope you enjoy this part, I really liked writing it, especially the bit where Fili got angry at Thorin. I wanted to get the worried, protective older brother through and I hope I did.**

**I'll get the next part up next week, maybe sooner but I'm moving out of my University residence over the weekend (very sad face) and still have 80% of my room to pack haha. **

**Anyway as usual, reviews, favourites and follows are welcomed and appreciated :) **


	3. Counting Stars

**-Author's Note – Anything written '****_like this_****' (bold and italics) means the orcs are talking in Black Speech. -**

The forest had grown thicker by the time the orcs stopped. The dense leaves above them meshed together like a tent, only thin rays of sunlight penetrating through to the ground. Kili tilted his face upwards to feel the brief warmth on his skin, he guessed that it must have been around late afternoon, the sun beams had that particular golden glow that came a few hours before sunset. All he knew for sure was that his legs were aching, he was exhausted. He had stumbled a few times on the trek, his head thick and weary, over rocks and broken branches, for which he received stern shoves in the small of his back, pushing him roughly forward. He swallowed down his frustration, balling his fists to stop them connecting with an orc's jaw. Deep down he scolded himself for not fighting against them, for letting them march him through this unfamiliar and dark landscape without so much as an elbow in one of their ribs. No. He _needed _to stay quiet. The more he fought the more he'd get himself hurt. He was in enough trouble as it was.

The Orcs reached a narrow clearing. Large enough to make camp but small enough so that the high leaves still provided shelter from the sun, hiding away most of the sky.

**_"_****_We will stop here." _**Azog said, the white warg bellow him coming to a halt, sniffing the air with her wet nose. She pawed at the ground as her rider dismounted, running his hand through her thick fur. Azog breathed in the scent of the forest. The pine was too sweet, it stung the inside of his nose. He preferred the rocky mountain side, deep caves cut into cliffs, where the air was cool and acrid. He grunted, this would have to do.

Kili didn't notice how much his legs shook until he was stood still, he wanted to fall to the ground, to sit. To sleep. It was all he could do to remain standing. He focused on what was around him, he counted the orcs as they shrugged off their weapons. Twelve, with one warg each. The rest had been thrown off the cliffs by the eagles, or left injured on the rocks.

**_"_****_Gurlak. Bring the prisoner to me." _**Kili didn't understand what the pale Orc said, but the sound of the Black Speech made his stomach knot and a shiver run up his spine. Azog's icy blue eyes dug into him like daggers, they made his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly he was shoved forward by the one-eyed orc, who sniggered at him, flashing yellow and rotten teeth, and thrown to his knees. His legs stung as they met with the ground. He heard Azog before he saw him. Heard his heavy footsteps approaching and his deep, growling breaths. Kili gulped and dragged in a deep breath before slowly looking up at his captor. He wanted to hide his fear, to put on a mask of courage and hide behind it. But as he looked into Azog's scarred face, features twisted in a foul sneer, he knew the façade was failing, crumbling on the ground around him. Azog crouched down and reached a hand towards Kili who tried to flinch away, edging back where he was knelt. But Gurlak pressed a hand firmly down on his shoulder, keeping him where he was. Azog wrapped his fingers around Kili's jaw, tilting the dwarf's head back to get a better look at his prisoner. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised Kili. He wasn't built much like the other dwarfs, he was far more slender with a thin face and delicate features. Azog supposed that he could squeeze his jaw and feel it crack in his palm, but then he would be of no use. He locked eyes with Kili and saw them full of anxiety and fear, but he saw that they were also young and hopeful. Azog sniggered. He would crush that hope, and leave Kili feeling more than just fear. The dwarf would be begging for death by the time they were finished. He would be easy to break. **_"Tie him up." _**

Fili was restless. He had paced back and forth, under the cautious stares of the company, until his legs ached and he collapsed down the side of a tree trunk, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeves. Subconsciously pulling at a loose thread, he stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. He didn't feel its orange glow on his cheeks, he only felt the cold breeze on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Fili felt lonely. There may have been thirteen others in the camp, speaking in hushed murmurs and flashing him quick, sympathetic smiles, but without Kili beside him he felt very much alone. He was used to sitting side-by-side with his brother, close enough for their shoulders to touch and to share each other's warmth. He was used to Kili whispering jokes into his ear or humming a familiar tune that would make Fili's tense muscles relax. But instead he sat apart from the others, not wanting to listen to their weak and strained reassurances. They were meaningless to him and he would believe none of them until Kili was safely back in his arms.

The sight of the sunset caused a nauseating feeling to grow in his stomach, it hurt like he was being crushed and it made his breaths come out quick and strained. As the world grew darker, so did his thoughts. Kili, he knew for sure, would not be enjoying such friendly company and would not be huddled up to the warmth of a glowing fire, the scent of Bombur's cooking drifting on the air. Was he hurt? Images of Kili slumped on the ground, blood running down the side of his face, features crumpled in pain, flooded his mind. Images of the Orcs crowding him, prodding him with swords and kicking at him with heavy leather and steel boots. _No. No. _Fili shook his head and tugged at his hair in a vain attempt to banish the notions from his head. _He'll be fine. He's strong and brave. He'll be alright. _He wasn't convincing himself. He knew for a fact that his brother was brave, he wouldn't have so selflessly jumped to Thorin's aid if he wasn't. But he also knew that Kili was impetuous and easily antagonised. He would not hold back from barking profanities. Fili silently begged the open air that his brother would hold back his nature long enough for them to reach him. Otherwise, Fili feared for what they would - or would not - find.

The camp was tense, Thorin could feel it. Thirteen figures were sat anxiously around the campfire with hushed voices and downcast eyes. Any looks thrown towards Fili were brief, or avoided completely, images of his fierce anger still fresh in their minds. But Thorin, hands laced uncomfortably in his lap, kept his gaze firmly fixed on his nephew, watching him from over the top of the flames. Thorin knew that Fili's pretence of calm was masking an inner panic. He knew his nephew well, and could see what the others were incapable of noticing. He observed the disconnected look in Fili's blue eyes, how his mouth twitched as he bit down on his lip, how tightly his knees where drawn to his chest. Thorin wished that he could wrap an arm around him and pull him close, to mutter reassurances into his ear in an attempt to ease his troubled mind. But he knew that Fili didn't want him, he wanted his brother. So instead, the exiled king simply watched on, Balin and Dwalin sat either side of him.

"Thorin." Balin said, his voice low. Dwalin leaned forward to see his brother across Thorin. Knowing the tone of his voice. "You know it is at least a two day hike back to where we lost Kili. If not three. By the time we get there the orcs could be leagues away or … he could be …"

"You think we should just abandon him, leave him with _them_?" Though he didn't say it out loud, Dwalin's particular soft spot for Kili never went unseen as the younger prince grew up in Ered Luin. Images of Kili as a child, a giggling and overly energetic little dwarfling suddenly filled the warrior's mind. Images of the young prince climbing onto Dwalin's shoulders, of Kili asking him the story behind every battle scar, of the boy jumping onto pieces of furniture as he charged with a wooden sword, of big brown eyes full of curiosity and joy. The embodiment of innocence and hope. Dwalin's fists curled. "We have to try."

"I'm not saying to abandon him, I'm just saying that we should be … prepared for what we may discover." Balin silently scolded himself for his pessimism, he wanted nothing more than for the company to retrieve Kili safe and well, but he was only thinking logically. Beside him, he felt Thorin tense. The king's heart felt suddenly like lead as he looked down to the ground, Balin's words resonating in his head. _We should be prepared for what we may discover. _Then, like a great weight, Thorin suddenly regretted not leaving to find Kili sooner. He understood that the company needed rest, but he knew that his nephew needed him more. _Kili. _What if help reached him too late? What if there was nothing left of him apart from a broken, lifeless body. How could he possibly forgive himself if that is what they found? Thorin closed his eyes in an unspoken prayer. Begging Mahal to keep his young nephew protected until he could reach him. "No, we'll find him … alive. We _have_ to. I could not bear to lose him." Even the very thought made his heart shatter. He looked back across the fire at Fili, still sat silent and disconnected. Then another thought gripped him, what would happen to Fili if they were to lose his brother? It would devastate him and leave him empty, to have the person he loved the most taken from him would destroy him. It would be like losing a part of himself, like having his very soul torn from his body. "I do not wish to see what would happen to Fili if we were to find anything else." Thorin said quietly.

The night was quiet, noticeably quiet, Fili thought, without Kili's infectious laugh echoing around the camp. The company sat in a rare and unpleasant silence. It was surprising how much Kili kept the group cheerful, it was only noticeable when he wasn't present. Fili sighed and let his head fall back against the side of the tree. Shivering slightly, he pulled his coat tighter around him. It failed to make him feel any warmer, to keep away the icy breath of the shadows. He stared up at the stars, watching them glistening across the heavens like silver torchlight. Each one trying to out shine the next. Fili wondered if his brother, wherever he was, was looking at the same stars, looking at them gleam against the black sky. He may have been far away, but at least he was beneath the same sky.

Kili had always thought of starlight as being a cold light, the stars seemed so distant and unreachable. He watched their silver glow through the gaps in the leaves above him and thought about how they always seemed so far away, detached from the rest of the world. They made Kili feel small, and in that moment, tied to a tree, he felt very small indeed. In an attempt to ignore the orcs and the throbbing pain in his bound wrists, Kili had tried to count the stars, focusing on them and not his captures as they went about their business and shot him hateful glares. But he'd reach a certain number and loose count. In the brief moment before the young dwarf attempted to start again, he felt his fear bubble inside him again, fear for what the morning would bring, once the orcs were well rested again. Kili wouldn't rest, he would stay awake and savour the peace of the cold night before the inescapable torment that sunrise would bring. This, he knew, was the calm before the storm. And he hoped he would be strong enough to endure it when it hit.


	4. The Slowest Sunrise

**- Just another reminder ****_Bold Italics _****means the Orcs are talking in black speech -**

It was the longest night and the slowest sunrise Fili could ever recall as he lay on his back, eyes staring into the inky sky, waiting for sleep to come. But, despite his wearied mind and heavy eyelids, he remained awake, tossing and turning as the hours dragged slowly by. Every lingering moment beneath the dark sky, as the rest of the company slept around him, felt endless and Fili became more and more anxious. It was far easier, in the silence of the night, for Fili's mind to wander, for him to overthink every possible, terrifying thing his younger brother could be facing. He tried to ignore his own thoughts and squeezed his eyes shut willing, begging, sleep to come, to take him away from the loneliness and dread he was feeling. The worst part about that long and cheerless night was not feeling Kili's sleeping form beside him. They always slept beside one another, close enough so that, even in sleep, they were aware of each other's presence. How much Fili wished to reach out and pull his little brother close, to brush his untidy brown locks from his face as he slept, to watch his chest rise and fall in steady breaths. But instead the space beside him was cold and empty. Fili dragged his eyes away from unoccupied spot beside him and looked back up towards the sky, stars partially covered by thin grey clouds. Slowly, mercifully, the sun climbed from behind the mountains, carpeting the land with a golden veil. And with the light, the prince was filled with confidence, confidence that he would reach his brother, however far away he was, and that all would be as it should be – with Kili beside him once again.

"Get up." Fili growled, nudging Thorin in the side with his boot. Thorin stirred, feeling a throb of pain engulf his tender ribs, he batted Fili away with a wince. He looked up at his nephew silhouetted against the glow of the sunrise, his hands resting impatiently on his hips. Fili sighed and moved off to wake the other members of the company, walking with heavy steps and not taking much care to avoid kicking the rousing figures, who groaned and blinked against the light. Thorin pushed himself onto his elbows, seeing Fili's sleeping mat and blanket already packed. It seemed that he had been prepared for a long time. Thorin yawed, clasping a hand over his mouth. Sleep hadn't come easy, the sound of Fili's restless fidgeting kept him awake until even the owls, who had hooted steadily throughout the night, had fallen silent. But even when the exiled king had finally fallen asleep, his dreams were unsettling, driven by his inner panic, and sent his heart racing. As he slept, Thorin envisioned his youngest nephew suffering at the hands of Azog, of Azog stealing away yet another member of his family. So that when he was roused, he shared Fili's desire to begin the journey. Thorin pushed his hair from his face and stood stiffly up, biting down on his lip to prevent a groan from escaping him.

"Everyone," He said, as the company began to wake, rubbing their bleary eyes against the intense morning sun and stretching their arms above them, "pack your things away quickly. Soon we leave to find Kili." There came a hum of low groans from the still half asleep dwarfs, the prospect of beginning such a long journey before they had even had time to awaken properly was not an attractive one. Bofur, eyes still half shut, collapsed back onto his bedroll.

"Thorin." Balin's soft voice thwarted the King's advance to kick the hatted dwarf back up, "perhaps we should eat first, finish the leftovers from last night." Balin could see the anxiety in Thorin's eyes, his eagerness to retrieve his nephew shining. "And perhaps that would give us time to look over the map, to plan the quickest route." He suggested. Thorin's eyes closed in thought and he pinched the bridge of his nose, considering the elder dwarf's suggestion. His own desire to find Kili burned in his gut like a furnace, but, like he usually was, Balin was right. Thorin sighed and nodded.

"Very well," He said, "Bombur, see what is left from last night's meal."

"Thorin, we can't delay any longer," Fili strode over, gaze flicking from his uncle to Balin, "We have waited long enough. _Too _long." Thorin observed Fili as he approached, his blue eyes were dark and weary. The night's rest seemed to have no effect on the young dwarf, who looked as exhausted as he had the previous day. The respite appeared to have been lost on him.

"Lad, we are going to look at the map, we need to plan a course." Balin said, pulling the folded map from his pocket, "we don't have the benefit of the eagles this time. Our journey will prove too lengthy if we take the wrong route."

"Fine," Fili nodded, "but please, let's do this quickly." He crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't think we can afford to wait."

Kili's shoulders were hunched as he sat, arms tied awkwardly around the thin trunk of a grey-barked tree, with his eyes lightly shut. He could see the gradual glow of steady sunrise below his lids as the sun fought its way through the leaves above. He hadn't slept, of that he was sure. For he had heard each snore and snort, each grunt and groan, of the orcs and wargs as they slept around him. As the cold night drew on, Kili, too far away from the campfire to feel any warmth, let his mind wander over mountains and rivers and forests, back to safer times in Ered Luin. Back when the only danger was falling from a tree and orcs where simply stories told by parents to make children behave. Kili sighed and let his eyes flick open. Whilst he had been lost in his musings of home, a mist had rolled through the trees, wrapping around the feet of the trunks. Glistening dew had settled on the foliage. Gurlak was watching him, sharpening one of his dirty knifes. Half of his face was still in shadow, making him seem even more intimidating. Kili wondered how long the orc had been observing him. The flash in Gurlak's remaining eye, when he noticed the dwarf rousing from his thoughts, unnerved him, and even when Kili looked away from him, he could feel the cruel stare boring into him. The rope keeping Kili restrained against the tree felt even tighter around his wrists than it had the previous day, he must have been subconsciously pulling against it as the lonely night lingered on. His arms had begun to ache as well, his shoulders in particular, as they remained uncomfortably wrapped around the tree. He had shifted his position often over the last few hours, switching from leaning as far forward as his bonds would allow to sitting up straight and pushing his back into the rough bark. He had stretched his legs out in front of him, pulled them to his chest and crossed them. But as time passed, none of this kept the aching at bay. At least the leafy ground was soft, he supposed.

When Azog woke, he woke with satisfied feeling in his gut; for he had taken prisoner one of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. And he was pleased, for he had not seized a stern warrior who would keep his secrets hidden, but rather a young, inexperienced dwarfling who would undoubtedly crack and reveal all he knew. Soon Azog would know the location of the exiled dwarven king. He strode through the camp, which was beginning to stir and come alive, and approached a smaller green skinned orc.

"**_Lazgarl_**," he said. Lazgarl started at his leader's voice, spinning where he was crouched. "**_Let me see his weapons_****.**" Lazgarl nodded and approached the dwarf's weapons, which had been tossed in a pile the night before. He passed Kili's sword to Azog first, who took it with narrowed eyes. It was a fine, well-crafted blade, he thought as he inspected the shining blade. He ran a finger along the sharp edge, the point cutting his pale skin, feeling the quality of the metal. He studied the geometric dwarfish designs on the silver base and head and gripped the leather-bound handle. It had a good weight to it, but was too small for his orcish hands. Next Lazgarl handed Azog the bow. As he looked upon this delicately made weapon, running a hand over the sweeping curves of the bow and plucking at the string, Azog's brow creased, he could not recall the last time he had witnessed a dwarven archer – bows were hardly a dwarf's weapon of choice, for they favoured swords and axes. It was peculiar, Azog thought, bows were considered the weapons of elves. Azog recalled how he thought the features and slightness of the young dwarf made him appear almost elven. Intrigued by this un-dwarven choice of weapon, Azog looked over at Kili who had been watching him inspect his equipment with a burning hatred – his weapons were special to him, for they were a gift given to him off his uncle before they left the Blue Mountains on their quest. Both he and Fili had been presented with new weapons that day. Dropping the items back to the ground Azog pointed at the dwarf, "**_Bring him to me_**."

**- AN. **

**Thanks guys for all the reviews, It's great knowing you're enjoying my work! You guys rock! -**


	5. Steel-toed boots

"You are unusually quiet," Thorin said to Gandalf as they walked.

"Aren't we all?" The wizard's bushy eyebrows raised slightly, his face was still in partial shadow beneath the rim of his tall grey hat. Thorin glanced up at him briefly before turning his head to watch the company walk in silence behind them. He sighed, Gandalf was right. Very little had been said by anyone since they began their trek and any hushed murmurs were swallowed up by the wind. It was a cold morning - autumn was truly on its way. The trees lining their path had begun to change colour from fresh green to russet and yellow, some leaves were already starting to carpet the ground. Usually there would have been some complaints about the chill, voices sending a white cloud of smoke-like breath into the air, but there were no moans or grumbles that morning as the company quietly and cheerlessly packed away their things.

"Aye." Thorin nodded, turning away with a sigh. As he turned, his gaze lingered on his nephew. Fili walked, eyes downcast, alone. It was strange not to see him with his brother close beside him, making some humorous comment that kept a grin permanently painted on the elder prince's face. "What are our chances," Thorin asked Gandalf, in a low voice, "of finding Kili alive and well? Do you think we will?" There was a silence for many moments as the wizard considered this question. Gandalf glanced down at the dwarf next to him. Thorin may have been looking straight ahead, providing him with only the sideways view of his face, but there was no mistaking the unease in those usually hard blue eyes.

"There is nothing to say that we will not find him alive. Your nephew is brave, that I have seen these past few weeks." Gandalf said. That Thorin already knew, for Kili's bravery often surprised him. For such a young dwarf, he was unmeasurably daring – finding delight in wild adventure, his nephew liked to send his heart racing. But perhaps he was _too_ brave, if there was such a thing. Filled with the confidence that youth brought, Kili dived into danger without even a flurry of fear. And now he was paying for it. Thorin's fists curled at his sides. "But finding him _well_? That is quite another thing." Gandalf spoke truthfully, knowing all too well the malicious intent of orcs. He watched the dwarf king's jaw tense as the staunch mask he wore cracked, briefly unveiling the fearful uncle beneath. He placed a hand on Thorin's shoulder and patted it lightly.

This was the first time since he left Bag End that Bilbo could recall the company walking in such glum silence. Usually there were jokes and stories being told, excitement for their journey and for Erebor resonating throughout the group. But now, as they travelled uphill back into tree scattered mountains, there was only the briefest conversation which came and went with long soundless intervals. Bilbo was walking beside Bofur who stared resolutely ahead, eyes sometimes shifting to view the shrinking land, a blue hue tinting the landscape, as they trekked higher into the hills. The sun wasn't even at its highest and Bilbo already felt they had been walking a full day, something about the silence made time seem slower, every moment lingered. He didn't like the silence, it made him feel nervous. He had tried to entice a conversation some time ago, remarking about how the leaves were changing colour and how he was sure he's seen some frost that morning. To this Bofur simply nodded, giving the Hobbit a quick sideways glance. Bilbo shrugged his bag further up his back and carried on walking. That day was probably the most boring he had experienced since the journey began. And he knew why: their most cheerful, optimistic member was missing and without Kili to play tricks or tell jokes, the company had fallen into a silent, melancholic march across a strange new landscape. Bilbo hoped the cheery young prince would be returned to them soon. He glanced up to watch Fili trudging miserably ahead of him.

"Do you think he's alright?" Bilbo asked Bofur quietly.

"Who?"

"Fili, do you think he's alright?" He repeated.

"He's worried," Bofur shrugged, looking at the blonde dwarf thoughtfully. "He thinks it's his job to look after his brother, and now he can't." He sighed.

"Have you known them long?"

"Fili and Kili? Oh aye, I knew them as children." Bofur nodded, "Everyone in Ered Luin knew them, and not just because they were Thorin's nephews, but because they were always causing trouble." He said, a small smile spreading across his lips - the first smile Bilbo had seen all day. "Where one was, so was the other. And if you could only see one, you should have been worried."

"Why?" Bilbo inquired.

"Because the other one was probably up to no good." Bofur paused, eyes flicking skywards as though chasing down a memory. "I remember one time, Kili put on this wonderful display in the middle of the market, said he had hurt his leg, crying and everything. So while everyone was trying to calm the little lad down, Fili went ahead and made off with half a dozen fresh apples from one of the stalls. Next thing you know Kili stops crying, pokes his tongue out and scampers away, leaving everyone a little bit baffled." The hatted dwarf chuckled slightly at the recollection before continuing. "I'd never met such a pair of mischievous dwarflings, I mean, you'd think being nephews of the king they would have been exceptionally well-behaved. Not much has changed even now, they still like their tricks. Kili more so, Fili has grown up a little, I suppose he's had to, being Thorin's immediate heir and all." As Bilbo looked up at Fili, still trudging glumly onwards, it was hard to picture him as the heir to the throne, let alone a king. Because in that moment he just seemed so scared. But Kili, that lad still enjoys causing trouble." Bilbo heard Bofur sigh sadly, the smile had disappeared from his face. "I hope we find him," He said sullenly.

* * *

For a brief, brilliant moment when he was untied, Kili let his stiff and aching muscles relax. The pain in his wrists, from where the rough orcish rope cut into him, throbbed and tingled as he rested his hands on the ground, curling his fingers into the dirt and leaves. He dragged in a deep breath, feeling a tenderness in his ribs. He could smell the woodland, the scent of pine trees and bark, the earthy soil and fallen early autumn leaves. For a moment he considered running, he thought about darting into the trees, about hiding amongst the dense undergrowth or climbing to conceal himself in the leaves. He was fast, he could give the orcs the slip and remain hidden until they left. _If _they left. Every impulse in Kili's body screamed at him to move, he could almost hear Thorin and Fili inside his head telling him, _begging_ him, to run. He would have complied but his rationality suddenly burst through, clearing his mind of his impulsive thoughts. He would _never_ be able to get away from the orcs. This land was alien to him and he would quickly get lost, wandering through unfamiliar terrain until fatigue and hunger got to him. And who was to say the orcs would not catch him? Kili was fast, that he knew, but he also knew that he was no match for the wargs who would catch him within moments. If Kili ran now, it would be a hopeless and failed attempt to escape. The young prince's shoulder slumped. How disappointed would his uncle be now, if he knew Kili wasn't even trying to get away?

A hand twisted itself into the collar of Kili's coat and he was roughly heaved to his feet and pushed forward. He almost hit the floor again with the force, but managed to keep his footing. The orcs were all staring at him with their yellow eyes shining and teeth flashing in menacing sneers. He didn't want to look at them, didn't want to meet their cruel glares, didn't want to see the way they laughed as he was marched through the camp, receiving stern shoves to the back. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze and kept his eyes pinned on his boots as he walked. There was a splash of blood upon the leather, hidden amongst the dirt and scores. He'd scrubbed the boots clean and polished them until they shone the night before he left Ered Luin, excitement bubbling in his stomach as he wondered about all the adventure he was about to have. Kili had not expected to end up as an orc prisoner. Then he was thrown to his knees, the ground stung as he landed. Kili bowed his head and bit down on his lip. He didn't need to see the huge white figure looming from the shadows, early sunlight making his pale skin imitate a fiery glow, to know who was approaching. Nor to realise that from that moment on, his life was going to consist of fear and pain. He breathed in deeply and stiffened his muscles to stop them from trembling.

"Look at me." Azog said. Kili froze, he had never heard orcs speak in Westron, only ever barking at one another in foul Black Speech. It was strange to hear, it unnerved him. It didn't sound _right_. "Look at me!" Azog growled loudly. Kili flinched at the frustration in the pale orc's voice, head snapping up and brown eyes widening. "Good boy." Azog smirked. He crouched low and leaned towards Kili, who arched his back in an attempt to keep distance between him and the monstrous orc. Azog's eyes narrowed as he studied the dwarf again. It took everything in Kili's consciousness to keep his face impassive and still. He could smell Azog's foul breath. "So young. No more than a child in dwarf terms." He observed, "Tell me, little one, what is your name?"

"That is no business of yours." Kili said tersely, suddenly finding his courage again. He straightened his shoulders.

"You are my prisoner."

"So I've gathered." Kili responded dryly, tilting his head to the side slightly in a motion that mocked the orc's blatancy. Azog's lip curled up in a grunt, he waved his hand and Kili was suddenly struck from behind. A blow to the back that winded him. He received another kick to the gut, an action that roughly pushed out any remaining air in Kili's lungs. He doubled over with a groan, arms wrapped around his middle. He squeezed his eyes shut to steady himself just as a hand curled itself into his hair, yanking him forcefully back upright.

"I want to know your name. No doubt you know mine." Kili noted the self-importance in Azog's voice, the way he stood with his hands on his hips, his chest swelling outwards. It reminded him of a male bird trying to impress a female. But Kili didn't find it impressive, he found it pitiful. How anyone could find gratification by being notorious for ruin and cruelty was beyond him.

"Yes." He said at last. His teeth clenched as he looked up at Azog, still stood swollen with pride. He didn't like self-righteous people.

"And so I would like to know your name." Kili shook his head.

"You'll never have it." The proudness in Azog's posture vanished, obviously he was not used to being disobeyed. All the other orcs looked too afraid of him to even dare. Kili supposed he should have been afraid as well, he had been, but in that moment he wasn't. The uncertainty and fear of the night before, whilst sitting alone beneath the trees in the dark and the cold had been pushed the bottom of his gut, supressed beneath a burning furnace of determination, courage and hate. Azog waved his hand again, fed up of the dwarfling's impertinence. The blow came from the side that time, a pain above his elbow that spread up into his shoulder. He hit the ground with an involuntary groan, just as a heavy boot connected with his ribs, sending a judder through his bones. Then came another. Kili curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest, his hands wrapped around his head. Another boot, this time tipped with hard steel, struck him from behind, hitting him just below the shoulder blade. Over the sound of the blows and the blood pumping as loud as drums in his ears, he could hear the orcs about him cackling and jeering, mocking the defenceless dwarf as their comrades continued their assault. The beating lasted longer that time, Kili could imagine Azog looking on with pleasure, the satisfaction of the display triggering a foul sneer. Finally, after a last kick to the arms, Kili's attackers shuffled away. For a moment Kili lay where he was, heart thundering so quick and hard in his chest that it upset his sore ribs. He bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut – even so, he could still see the shadows of the orcs beneath his lids. Azog's great hand wrapped itself around his left wrist, pressing tightly against the rope cuts, and he yanked the dwarf back up into a kneeling position.

"_Tell me your name_." He demanded. He was impatient and his jaw was tight. Kili's shoulders rose and fell quickly as he breathed, feeding his lungs with the air he had lacked as he was beat. He steeled his features, brown eyes boring into Azog's. The beating had not weakened him, nor made him fearful. He felt riled, fury pumped through his veins. He didn't want to hide, he wanted to fight. The orcs did what they shouldn't have; they'd provoked him, triggered the warrior within him. They'd awoken the Durin blood.

"No." He growled, voice venomous, before leaning forward and spitting in Azog's face. The pale orc's features scrunched in anger, lips curled and eyes bulging. He swung the back of his hand against Kili's cheek with a roar. Kili tasted blood. He ignored the sting that turned the left side of his face a fierce red as he dived forward, arms wrapping around Azog's middle, forcing him to the ground. Kili brought his fist down against his temple, feeling the hardness of the bone beneath the flesh. Azog moaned as Kili hit him with a force he'd thought unlikely of the dwarfling. He swiped Kili away, the dwarf rolled away onto the dirt and Gurlak seized him around the waist. For a moment Kili's feet were off the ground as the orc gripped him, but he brought his elbow down into the creature's ribs and he was dropped, landing on his hands and knees. He heard the swishing of a blade and pushed himself away and onto his feet just as a sword was swung past his head, inches from taking it off his shoulders. He growled and charged forward and, leaping from the floor, kicked the orc with the steel-toed boots in the chest. The orc stumbled backwards with a grunt. Kili's eyes flashed, but as he went to move forward again, his world turned black, a piece of wood striking against the side of his head, and he crumpled to the ground.

**-Author's note -**

**Oops, this is a week late! Sorry! I've been very busy with my voluntary job lately, so if this seems a little rushed I apologise once again. But I hope you enjoy this chapter just the same.**

**Thank you for all the reviews and favourites/follows. It feels great knowing my work is enjoyed! (You guys rock!)**

**So, if you liked this part, Reviews/favourites/follows are much appreciated :)**


	6. Raw Meat

The morning had been cold, and the company had marched quickly to prevent the chill from setting upon them, but now the sun was at its highest and the morning mist had long since vanished. With the sun beginning to warm their backs, the ground had started to level and the hills made way for smooth land. The flat ground helped to ease the burning in their legs and brought some light relief. But Fili felt no relief, he hadn't even noticed that they were no longer walking uphill anymore. He hadn't really noticed much of the trek at all. He hadn't noticed the early autumn leaves falling gradually from the trees and how they scampered across the ground when the cold wind blew. He hadn't observed the view of the gold and green landscape below them. And he most certainly didn't take note of the looks he was receiving from the rest of the company. Ever since his outburst the previous day, when he pinned Thorin down and screamed at him, he knew his friends had become cautious of him. They watched him warily, and spoke carefully when he was within ear's reach. Fili supposed he should have felt ashamed of his explosion, he was Thorin's heir after all, and one day he would be king. His uncle had taught him to keep emotions private, that any public displays of anger or sadness or worry could be used against him. But Fili hadn't cared, he was angry and sad and worried and hiding those emotions would not have made him feel any better. He sighed and trudged onwards, the bag on his back feeling heavier than usual – despite the fact they'd lost much of their items in Goblin Town. The straps pulled at his shoulders and it took a lot of effort to keep them up straight. Perhaps it had always been that heavy and he'd just never noticed before.

The day continued slowly and silently. Conversation was brief and before long the flat land began to rise sharply again. The woods gave way to uneven, dull grey rock. Thorin had fallen back to walk beside Fili, who had shot him only a quick glance when he came to his side. After some moments, he had gone to speak, to break the suddenly unbearable silence, but seeing how his nephew's posture stiffened, he closed his mouth and reverted to his wordless march. The two dwarves walked an arm's length away from each other, Fili keeping his eyes fixed firmly forward, watching the mountains roll upwards, pretending his uncle was not there. But Thorin watched him from the corner of his eye. The blonde prince looked exhausted, there were circles beneath his eyes and he looked paler than usual, even beneath the late afternoon light, which shinned gold across the land. Concern was masked across his young nephew's face.

"Fili," He said. Fili said nothing, and didn't look his way. "We'll reach him." Fili nodded ever so slightly, in fact the action would had gone amiss if Thorin hadn't been observing him so closely. _We have too, _Thorin thought to himself. They pressed on, not another word was spoken.

* * *

Kili was aware of two things when he awoke, the low, late afternoon light shining blindingly through the trees. The first was that he could taste blood. Its metallic tinge clung to his teeth and buried itself in the cracks of his dry lips. He went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand but found that he was bound again. That is when he became aware that he wasn't tied to the same tree, this one was broader and the bark was softer, the leaves scattered around him were long dead and rotting into the dirt. Kili looked about him, the entire camp was different, it was larger and lighter, and the trees were further spaced out than before. _We've moved,_ Kili thought. Then his heart skipped a beat with panic. If the orcs had indeed travelled – and he could not guess how far – would Fili and Thorin still be able to find him, to take him away from the orcs and to somewhere safe? Or would they lose the orc's trail and him along with it? _No, no, no. _They'd find him. They wouldn't give up. But now, perhaps it would take longer. He rested his head back against the tree. His body ached all over, his ribs, his back, his arms and sides. A dull, throbbing pain in all his muscles which spread up into his skull, lingering behind his eyes. He felt tired too, although he was sure he'd been unconscious for some hours. Before the light was fresh – that of morning, and now he could see that the sun was shining low in the sky. Sunset was approaching. His second night as Azog's prisoner loomed.

As the forest grew darker, shadows creeping in to shroud the camp in gloom, the orcs lit a fire. It burnt a brilliant orange, the smoke billowing up to disappear through the leaves. Two deer carcasses were dragged into the glade, a trail of blood soaking the dirt behind them. The orcs let out loud cackles, hands clapping in the cold air and feet stomping on the ground, they eyed the hunt eagerly, shoving against each other. Kili looked away as they began to skin and gut the animals, he'd never been too fond of that processes, the sound was nauseating enough. Instead he looked into the trees, focusing on a fixed point in the darkness. He saw the round beady eyes of an owl reflecting the glow of the fire. It stared right at him, its feathers shining gold in the light. Kili envied the bird; it didn't need to worry about being prisoner, about being bound and beaten. With just a flap of its wings it could be far from here, swooping and soaring in the direction of freedom. The bird shook its feathers, one fell silently towards the ground, landing on a pile of dead leaves without as much as a rustle. And then, with a hoot, the owl took off, flying low past Kili's head and into the trees, Kili watched its silvery feathers disappear into the gloom.

It wasn't long before the deer hides had been tossed in a pile at the edge of camp and the innards had been thrown in the direction of the four wargs, who fought amongst themselves for the most desirable pieces, blood caking their huge muzzles. Kili's nose crunched up as he watched them, unable to drag his eyes away, no matter how disgusting the scene was. The orcs, however seemed unfazed by their beasts ravenously tearing at a deer's lungs or stomach, and rather went about ripping at the rest of the carcass (Azog helped himself to an entire hind leg) and held their chosen piece of meat over the fire to cook. The orcs obviously didn't care much about whether the meat was cooked through, some of them didn't even bother and ate it raw. Kili observed them. They weren't much different to the wargs, really. They bickered amongst themselves, shoving and growling and beating, to get at the meat, tearing greedily into the dear flesh with sharp yet partially rotten yellow teeth, juices from the under-cooked venison dripping down their chins. They devoured most of the two deers within minutes, tossing bones and gristle to the side and picking at their teeth for what was left behind and licking their lips. Kili's nose was still crinkled as he noticed Azog watching him over the top of the camp fire – he still had some of the deer leg left, he hadn't rushed to consume it and seemed to be taking his time. Kili supposed he didn't worry about the other orcs hungrily snatching it off him, - Kili's eyes met his, he frowned as Azog leaned into Gurlak and said something into his pointed ear. Gurlak nodded and eyed Kili before standing. _Some after dinner entertainment? _Kili wondered. He pushed his back into the tree trunk as Gurlak bent to reach something from the ground. A knife was Kili's guess, or maybe a club – anything to cause him pain. But it wasn't a weapon of any sort, for when the orc straightened back up, Gurlak had a piece of the deer meat in his hand. Kili frowned.

Gurlak approached him before kneeling down, holding the piece of meat up for Kili to see.

"Open your mouth." Gurlak said. Kili looked at the chunk of meat in the orc's hand. It was almost entirely pink, if it had been cooked it had only been cooked long enough for the outside to turn a very slight shade of light brown, for the centre was still completely raw, bloody too. The crimson liquid dripped slowly down onto Gurlak's palm. "Eat."

"It's raw." Kili told him, as though the one eyed orc was incapable of seeing that for himself. Gurlak raised the meat a little higher.

"Eat."

"It's raw." Kili said again, slowly as though talking to a small child.

"Azog wants you to eat." Gurlak spoke slowly and methodically, as though he had to think hard about every word that passed his lips. Obviously he was not as fluent in Westron as Azog was. "Azog doesn't want you to starve. You would be no use to him then."

"Well, if Azog doesn't want me to starve then tell him to _cook _the meat. Maybe then I'll eat it."

"It's all you are getting."

"Then I guess I'll be of no use to Azog." Kili shrugged. A growl emanated from Gurlak's chest and his free hand shoot up to grip Kili's jaw. Kili tried to shake it off, but to no avail, as Gurlak began to squeeze, forcing his jaw apart and mouth to open. Before he had chance to attempt to get the orc's huge hand off his face again, the raw venison was shoved roughly into Kili's mouth. Gurlak proceeded to hold a hand over Kili's mouth.

"So you don't spit it out." He said. "_Eat now_." Kili didn't want to eat it. Yes, he was hungry, he had felt – and heard - his stomach grumble with desire for food but this raw meat, cold and tough, was not what he had yearned for, he hadn't even chewed once and could feel the blood running down his throat. It made him feel sick and he knew that the moment the meal landed in his gut it would come straight back up. He shook his head. "Eat it." Gurlak said sternly, shoving Kili harder into the tree until his back hurt. "_Now_." Kili didn't want to give in, didn't want to consume this un-cooked piece of deer, but he knew that Gurlak would remain knelt in front of him until he did. Regretfully, he took a small chew. Then another. It was like eating leather, the meat was still firm, not succulent and tender like Bombur's cooking. It felt heavy in his mouth and his teeth soon ached from the effort to cut through it. Kili squeezed his eyes shut and tried to convince himself that he was sat with his friends and that Bombur had cooked it and that it was delicious. But it didn't work. And as the portion got smaller the taste got worse, it made Kili's closed eyes water. It seemed forever to get through the piece of meat, but finally the last bits slid down his throat. His stomach made an unhappy noise. "Open." Gurlak ordered, taking his hand away. Kili opened his mouth and the orc inspected it, making sure he'd eaten all of it and nothing had been squashed to the roof of his mouth or was hidden under his tongue. "Good." Then Gurlak shoved more meat between Kili's teeth. "Don't spit it out," he warned, this time not holding his hand over the young dwarf's mouth. The meat tasted even worse this time. This time it tasted of burnt wood and smoke, the flavour stung his tongue. Gurlak watched him forcefully chew through the tough meat, eyes squeezing shut with every bite. "Finished?" He said eventually. Kili nodded slowly opening his mouth, hoping that there was no more meat left for him to force down his throat. "Good." Gurlak stood and walked away without giving Kili another look. Kili dragged in a deep breath and panted the air into his mouth, longing for the taste of the woodland, of the leaves and the berries, to replace the tang left by the raw venison. His stomach made another unhappy sound, a stab of pain in his middle as Kili leaned as best he could to the side and coughed into the dirt.

**- AN -**

**Yuk, poor Kili. He really is having a bad time. **

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**Once again, if you enjoyed this chapter, Faves, follows and (especially) reviews are welcomed and much appreciated. I love knowing what you think :) **


	7. The New Quest

The taste of the raw venison remained in Kili's mouth for a long time after Gurlak had walked away, he could still taste the congealed blood and leathery meat on his tongue. He felt sick and had coughed up a foul yellow coloured bile into the dirt and, as the shadows beneath the trees grew darker, it was all he could do to prevent himself from retching further, but even so, his stomach groaned and pitched. It ached and caused pangs of sharp pains to spread across his abdomen. Orcs may have been able to consume uncooked meat, but Dwarfish bodies, it seemed, could not. Food was supposed to bring back your strength, to energise you and wash away the fatigue. But the orcish 'food' did none of that, it just made him feel weaker and drowsy. He just wanted to sleep. Kili could feel a bit of gristle between his teeth and picked at it with the tip of his tongue until it loosened enough for him to spit it onto the ground. And he kept spitting, trying to banish the lingering taste from his mouth. He scraped his tongue along his teeth to detach any remaining fragments of meat. Kili wished for a drink of water to swill his mouth – which had become much drier since Gurlak had force-fed him the deer meat – and to wash away the foul after-taste. He hadn't drunk since before the incident with the Goblins, when he was sat with the company, with his brother, in the dark mountain cave, listening to the howling wind outside. Until that moment he hadn't noticed how thirsty he was. If his friends didn't reach him perhaps he'd die of dehydration. It wouldn't be an honourable death, Durins were supposed to die in battle after slaying too many of their foes to count. They didn't die dry-mouthed and tied to a tree. Kili's brow furrowed, since when had he become so negative? One day as a prisoner and he was already thinking about how he'd die. He shook his head to clear his bad thoughts. _Stop it_, he thought to himself, _you're not going to die_.

At least, he hoped not.

The sky had grown dark again, there was now only the faintest orange glow of sunlight upon the horizon, the rest of the sky was a deep inky blue. They had trekked many leagues that day, the rocky peak which the eagles left them on the day before was simply a grey speck in the distance. The journey had been a mishmash of rocky inclines and smooth woodland elevated above gold and green fields which linked together like a patchwork quilt. But now the company were back amongst the rocks, their packs and weapons finally off their aching backs. Bofur and Gloin were busying themselves by preparing a fire, they were on their fourth attempt – the wind kept dowsing any sparks they were able to produce. Gloin's brows were knitted together in a frown, he huffed. _Kili would find this amusing_, Fili thought to himself as he dropped his swords on the ground with a clatter. He let a brief smile appear on his face as he imagined the witty comments his brother would make if he was there, no doubt making Gloin even more frustrated with obvious suggestions and observations. Fili sighed.

"Fili." It was Thorin. Fili looked up as his uncle approached, he sighed again. Fili went to turn and walk away, he was tired from the trek and didn't want to speak to Thorin, until a voice at the back of his mind made him freeze to the spot with a jolt. The voice made his hands tremble at his sides. He could hear Kili, begging him not to walk away, to stay where he was and listen to what their uncle had to say. Kili never liked it when Fili and Thorin argued – which was often, and usually because Fili was angry at Thorin for scolding his younger brother over some trivial thing, - and would plead that the pair worked it out. That was the thing about Kili, he didn't like it when people were unhappy and would go out of his way to change that. He wasn't content until everyone was smiling. _Please, Fili_, his voice said, _just listen_. He may has well have been stood right there. Fili sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest, fists clenched to hide the shaking in his hands. He looked at Thorin as he stopped in front of him. The raven haired dwarf was silent for some moments, as through pondering what to say. Fili could see he was biting down on his lip slightly, eyes looking for words to speak. Fili tapped his foot on the hard ground impatiently and raised his eyebrows, compelling his uncle to say whatever it was he had come to say. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry." Thorin said finally. Fili said nothing. The king rolled his shoulders. "What I said about your brother was cruel and I want you to know that I didn't mean it."

"It seemed to me like you meant it." Fili responded coldly. Thorin's brows knitted together as Fili continued, "That's always what you call him, a child, reckless, impulsive. Or sometimes 'irresponsible' or 'foolish.' You are blind Thorin, _blind_. He tries so hard to make you proud, to prove to you that he can be a good heir of Durin. But you always find something to criticise him over." Fili's voice was low, "Countless nights I've sat awake with him trying to convince him that you don't mean the things you say." Thorin's shoulders slumped.

"I had no idea."

"You are lucky I was able to make him believe me."

"I'll make it right, Fili. When we find him, I promise to make everything right." Thorin said softly. Fili scoffed.

"There's no use promising me. _I'm_ not the one you make feel useless."

"I don't make him feel useless."

"You really _don't_ have any idea." Fili pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, eyes falling briefly closed. He considered what his uncle had said. Despite his apparent ignorance on the way he made his nephew feel, Thorin had apologised, and Thorin _never _apologised. "I will forgive you for what you said on the peak, uncle. But _only_ because Kili would not want us to fight. Not for any other reason." Thorin nodded, learning about how his words hurt his youngest nephew, made his gut burn with guilt. He desired Erebor and the Arkenstone so strongly that he truly was blind to everything else. As he went to turn away, Fili reached out and grabbed his arm and pulled him back. As the day had progressed, as the march across the unfamiliar landscape dragged soundlessly on and he had been alone with his thoughts, Fili inwardly scolded himself for losing his temper. As much as he was still furious with Thorin's comment, Fili knew that his rage fuelled accusation that his uncle did not love Kili was incorrect. Fili had glanced at Thorin as they walked side-by-side that day and had seen the obvious concern etched on his uncle's usually impassive and steely features. Thorin cared a great deal for both his nephews, Fili knew that. Between the pointless scoldings, Fili had witnessed Thorin's affections towards his brother, the way he ruffled the younger's hair when he hit his target during bow practise, or when Kili learned to ride a pony and Thorin rewarded him with a pony of his own – Kili had worn the biggest smile that day. "I know you love him Thorin," Fili said quietly. "I shouldn't have accused you of anything else. For that _I_ apologise."

"I would have said the same, nephew." Thorin placed a hand on the side of the blonde's face, thankful when Fili didn't hit it away. "I care for you both very dearly, as if you were my own sons."

"I know." Fili said quietly. Thorin was the only father Fili and Kili could really recall having. Their _real_ father had died when they were very young. Fili still remembered the night they lost their father, Thorin had taken the two brothers in his arms and said, in a soft voice _"I am your father now, I will take care of you." _Kili didn't understand what any of it meant, the tears that fell from his eyes only fell because he didn't like seeing Fili and their mother upset, for months he asked when their papa was coming home. Thorin had told the truth that night, when the thunder rumbled through the Blue Mountains, he had taken care of them, and for that Fili was thankful. He glanced up at his uncle, the sun set casting a golden glow across his face. Then Thorin pulled him into a hug. Fili stiffened for a moment before letting his arm's wrap Thorin's sides and he buried his face in the fur of his uncle's thick coat.

"Let us not dwell on our quarrel, Fili." Thorin said into his ear, "Let's focus on our new quest; finding your brother. He is what's important now." Fili exhaled and for a moment felt his anger and worries leave him, there wrapped tightly in Thorin's embrace he knew that they would find Kili, that Thorin wouldn't give up until both his young nephews were together again. He squeezed his eyes shut and blink away the tears that were beginning to form.

"Thank you, uncle." He murmured. Uncle and nephew remained wrapped in each other's hold for some moments, both grateful for the other, before eventually pulling away. Thorin held Fili at arm's length, mouth turned up in a smile. Suddenly the air seemed lighter between them, like the thick fog lifting after a storm, leaving the earth fresh and clean. The rest of the journey, however long it may be, wouldn't feel as gruelling or lonely.

Azog eyed his prisoner from across the camp. The dwarfling had been retching from the meat he was fed for ages after Gurlak had left him, the sight made Azog pleased. Dwarfs could not consume the same food as the orcs, soon the boy would too weakened to fight back. Azog's temple still throbbed slightly, a nagging pain left there after the dwarf unexpectedly lashed out. At first the pale orc thought he had taken a weak youngster hostage, someone who wouldn't put up a fight, someone who would tell him everything with very little effort on his part. But it seems Azog had underestimated him; he was a fighter. _No matter_, Azog thought to himself, _I will still get what I want. _The rest of the orcs had been watching the dwarf boy, too. Azog saw them staring at him, still riled from his earlier outburst. They would have happily gutted him there and then, at first Azog was so enraged that he almost let them. But when the red he saw finally dissipated he knew that he still needed the dwarf and brought an end to his comrade's assaults. But they'd waited enough. It was time to obtain the information he sought.

* * *

**-A.N-**

**Like the rabbit in ****_Alice in Wonderland _****I am late! I'm so sorry, but I've been at work almost everyday lately and can barely function when I get home because I'm so tired. **

**This part is a little shorter but I wanted Fili and Thorin to make up, LOTS of Kili in the next chapter.**

**Thanks for sticking with me and being patient when I update late, I hope to get ch8 up sooner :)**

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	8. Names

Something was about to happen, Kili could feel it. The orcs in the camp were beginning to shift and shuffle, Azog had got up from the fallen log he had been sitting on and was rummaging through a threadbare sack made of leather and burlap. One of the orcs cackled, nudging the one beside it. Both looking over at Kili with chilling, flashing sneers. Kili felt a shiver run up his spine. It was as though a winter gale had washed through the forest, but the leaves on the trees were as still as they'd been since Kili had roused. He'd angered them when he'd struck out, and now he was going to be punished. _Why did you fight back? _He asked himself. He closed his eyes and made himself breathe deeply. He focused on the scent of the trees. There were different types all around him, Oak, Birch, Ash, Evergreen, Fir and Pine. They all smelt different, some were earthy, others fresh and airy. Most dwarves were most at home in the depths of caves but Kili favoured the woodlands and fells, where the air was crisp and fragrant. But that was probably due to growing up in the village in Ered Luin, where the caves weren't deep enough to set up home and where the trees spread out across the hills and gave way to large, open plains where there was plenty of room to run.

Kili was disturbed from trying to relish in the familiar scents of home by approaching footsteps. His eyes flicked open once again to Gurlak approaching him, one hand wrapped around a dull-brown clay cup, with another orc, whose skin was yellow as the bile Kili had been spitting into the grass. This one looked excited, his long, bony fingers twitched impatiently at his sides. It made Kili tense. Bile – as Kili decided to name him - hung back as Gurlak knelt in front of the dwarf, raising the cup to Kili's lips. Kili eyed it suspiciously, feeling the cold clay against his skin.

"Water." Gurlak said, "Drink." Unlike the meat, Kili didn't hesitate to accept. He gulped the water down greedily, some of it dripped down his chin and onto the collar of his tunic. The water was warm, but he didn't care. He let it rush down his throat and wash away the remaining aftertaste of the raw venison. After just a few long sips, Kili already felt revitalised, his strength restored. He never used to think water tasted of anything, but at that moment it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever tasted. When Kili slurped the last drops of water, Gurlak took the cup away and placed it on the ground. The one-eyed orc then proceeded to cut the rope that kept Kili tied to the tree. Kili's torn skin had numbed to the rough twine that dug into him, but as the pressure was released his wrists began to sting. He hissed in pain as the rope was pulled away and he was yanked to his feet. Then his coat and tunic was torn from his back – leaving his upper half bare, - he could feel the chill of the air now, and tossed into Bile's arms. Bile's nose scrunched up in disgust as if the fabric was smeared in excrement.

**_"_****_Throw them on the fire." _**Gurlak ordered. Bile nodded and, with one last glance at Kili, trudged away towards the newly lit campfire. He dropped the pieces of Kili's clothing into the flames and wiped his hands on the leather he wore as a vest. Kili felt his heart drop as he watched his items begin to burn, the geometric patterns being eaten away into ash and the blue fabric splitting and turning black. Kili had worn the clothing with pride; it was well made, made with some of the finest fabric in the Ered Luin. _"Nothing more than what an heir of Durin deserves," _his uncle had said. Bile reproached Gurlak and the two orcs marched Kili through camp. Kili felt unprotected now that his upper half was bare, the last time he had been beat, despite the fact that it had hurt and left harsh bruises on his skin, which Kili could see as he glanced down at his chest and arms, his thick layers of clothing has hindered the full force of the steel-toed boots and wooden clubs. Now there was nothing to stop his bones from buckling beneath the power. The orcs laughed more than before. Kili had felt that something was about to happen and as his eyes fell upon the whip, made of fierce looking leather and coated in dry blood, he was proved correct. Kili's own blood ran cold.

If Kili wasn't afraid before, he was now. As he looked at the whip in Lazgarl's claw-like hand, dried blood caked onto the scuffed leather, he was most certainly afraid. His breath caught in his throat and his heart drummed rapidly beneath his ribs. He dug his feet into the dirt, futilely trying to push back against Gurlak and Bile and away from the lash. But the two orcs were much stronger than him and kept him moving forward, their dirty fingernails digging into the skin on his shoulders. Kili was beginning to feel sick with dread as he got closer to Azog, stood beside Lazgarl, with his arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming keenly on his muscles. He looked crueller and more threatening, if that was possible. Perhaps it was the way he dwarfed Lazgarl, the green-skinned orc looking very small indeed beside his leader's huge form. Or maybe it was the way Azog's eyes stared hungrily at Kili, obviously eager to begin his torturous hunt for information. As Kili stared at the cruel-looking whip, as he envisioned the hundreds of other prisoners who had suffered at the end of the lash, he wondered how long he would last before he began to crack, before he would do anything to make the pain stop. _If a rescue is coming, _he thought, _now would be an excellent time. _But no aid came bursting through the trees, no dwarfish swords and axes flashing or raging battle cries. No Fili. No Thorin. As he was thrown to his knees, Kili knew he would have to endure. For as long as possible. _Please, Mahal, _he begged, _save me. _

Azog crouched low, his face level with the dwarf, who had now turned suddenly pale. He could see the boy's rapid pulse in his neck, the quick breaths that escaped him as he looked with wide eyes at the whip. _Not so brave now, _Azog thought with a slight sneer, his sharp, yellowing teeth flashing. He saw his prisoner gulp as he looked from the lash to the pale orc.

"I will get what I want." Azog said, "You will tell me what I want to hear." There was no doubt in his voice, no doubt that the dwarfling would be unable to hide what he knew any longer. He looked up at Gurlak and Bile, nodding his head as he stood up. Then Kili's arms were outstretched to his sides, one of the orcs' hands on his shoulders, keeping him kneeled on the ground, and the other hand wrapped tightly around his wristed, keeping his arms elevated and still. It was an uncomfortable position, his shoulders still ached and his raised arms were pulling at the bruised muscles, and his scratched and torn wrist was burning beneath the orcs' palms. But that, Kili realised, as Lazgarl began to walk around him and out of sight, was nothing compared to the pain that he undoubtedly about to endure. Kili closed his eyes and dragged in several quick breaths, trying to ready himself. But the whip came down too quick, it whistled down and struck him with an agonising _crack._ He cried out against the pain before he could stop himself, his eyes filling with tears. Kili squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting the orcs to see how they watered. Another whistle. Another crack. Another involuntary yelp.

"We will begin where ended before." Came Azog's voice. Kili pulled in sharp, whistling breaths through his teeth, and, after blinking away the tears, stared up at him through the gaps in his hair. Azog was sat upon a tree stump, hand resting on his knees, the orcs around him jeered and howled at Kili's pain.

"What is your name?" Azog leaned forward in expectation, but Kili simply shook his head. _Hold on, _he thought to himself, _say nothing. _He heard Azog growl as he waved his hand. Kili closed his eyes again, knowing what was coming. The whip struck harder this time, beating down on his back with great force and more times than before. The leather ripped at his skin, he could feel the open wounds burning, and blood begin to run gradually down from his shoulders to his waist and onto the ground. The whip came down a sixth time. But Kili did not cry out, he bit down on his lip, tearing at the flesh and bringing back the familiar metallic taste. "The more you defy me," Azog said as Lazgarl took a step back, "The more lashings you will receive."

"Then so be it." Kili replied, somehow succeeding in hiding the tremor in his voice. Azog's face reddened and he lunged forward, a huge hand wrapping around the dwarf's throat, lifting Kili slightly from the ground. Gurlak and Bile let go of Kili's arms and Azog tightened his grip, preventing any air from reaching his prisoner's lungs.

"YOU WILL ANSWER MY QUESTIONS, BOY!" Azog bellowed as Kili began to gag and cough, fingers uselessly tried to pull the orc's hand away. He could feel and smell Azog's foul breath on his face, it reminded him of the raw meet. Kili's vision began to haze, a low rumble in his ears, if Azog didn't let go he'd surely suffocate, his young life literally squeezed out of him. He didn't know what hurt more; the lashings or the lack of air. "YOU WILL OBEY!" Finally Azog released his grip and Kili slumped to the ground, gasping and rubbing his neck, feeling his pulse beat manically beneath his palm. The young dwarf coughed and let brilliant air rush to his lungs, his chest rising and falling as though he had been running for miles.

It was like there was a thick fog hanging in front of Kili's eyes, the shapes and colours of the forest were distorted and blurred together. It was like he had opened his eyes whilst submerged in murky water. He felt lightheaded as he dug his nails into the dirt, panting quickly to replace the air that Azog had squeezed from him. Every breath stung in his throat as though he was breathing in nothing but smoke. Kili's breathing was almost back to normal when Gurlak and Bile grabbed his arms and rose them again. It was even more uncomfortable this time, the fresh wounds on his back felt like they were being torn all the more. A groan escaped Kili's lips.

**_"_****_More lashings." _**He heard Azog command, as he sat back down on the tree stump. Kili didn't need to understand the Black Speech to guess what was said. And as the lash came down once again, the young dwarf's prediction was confirmed. Another one of Kili's cries rang through the trees.

The sounds of the whip whistling through the cold air rang out for what seemed to Kili like an age, wounds were layered upon wounds, open cuts burning with pain and spilling rivers of dark blood onto the ground, where it was quickly swallowed up by the dry earth. But despite this, Kili remained wordless, still refusing to comply. Every time Azog, who was becoming more and more infuriated, his fists so tight that the skin on his knuckles was even paler than usual, demanded his name, the young dwarf merely shook his head. Denying the pale orc the satisfaction. But as the lash came down, the leather connecting with the already torn skin, the agony worsened. It was hard not to produce more than a muffled yelp.

Kili looked through the gaps in his raven hair, he could see Azog begin to shift irritably, his brows were furrowed and his nostrils were beginning to flare. If Kili continued to defy him, the orc would surely kill him the next time he lost his temper. The next time, Azog would keep his hands wrapped around Kili's throat until he hung limp and lifeless in his grasp. At first, Kili almost desired to be taken away from the agony and terror he was feeling, at first he almost welcomed the idea. He was probably going to be killed when the orcs were finished with him anyway. At least this way he would die without betraying Thorin and Fili. _Fili_. The name stung Kili more that the whip, that beat down upon him for what felt like the hundredth time, it pained his heart. No, Kili couldn't leave him. Fili was coming for him, he _knew _he was. He _had_ to be. Fili wouldn't abandon him, and Kili could not leave him either. What would Fili do if he reached the orc camp only to find him strangled to death or gutted like the deer? What would he do if his brother, was so suddenly ripped away from him and could not be put back? Kili did not want to think what would happen to him, not want to envision the bitter, empty shell that Fili would become should Kili die at Azog hand. For the entire time when Kili was marched for leagues and leagues across an unknown land, when he was tied to a tree with only the sounds of the orcs and the cold wind for company, he thought only of being with his brother again. And he wasn't going to let Azog take that, or his life, away from him. Even if it meant letting go of his pride and stubbornness. Even if it would keep Azog happy long enough for the company to find him.

"Kili." He groaned finally. What could Azog do with a name? For now, it would be all Kili would give him. "My name … is Kili." In his gut Kili knew that he was doing the right thing, he was saving himself. He was saving Fili. But he could not shake the feeling that he was surrendering to the enemy.

Azog smiled. _Kili. _The dwarf was beginning to give in to the torture, and there was more information that he would soon obtain. He looked down at Kili from where he was sat, his body was trembling and his skin had paled, sweat kept his hair stuck to his forehead. It seemed to Azog that Kili was close to collapse, one more strike of the whip and he would fall unconscious. Finally he was weakening. But he would be of no use unconscious. Azog rolled his eyes.

**_"_****_Tie him back up. We will begin again in the morning." _**

* * *

**_AN._**

**Poor, poor Kili :( He stuck it out for a while mind. **

**I hope you enjoyed this part and as usual favourites, follows and reviews are very much appreciated! **

**Unfortionaly the next chapter will be a little late as I'm heading to a music festival this weekend *excited squeal* **


	9. Red Sun, Red Iron

**- Author's Note -**

**So, I was reading your reviews and many of you have said that you found this chapter hard to read due to lack of paragraphs, so to had a look and BOOM! All my paragraphs had disappeared and transformed into one long, nigh on un-readable chunk! There were most certainly chapters when I wrote it and they were there before I posted cause I checked. There's only one explanation; SORCERY!**

**Anyway, I've sorted it now and put the paragraphs back where they were so hopefully (unless the sorcerer isn't done messing up my work) you should be able to read this better now.**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

The sun rose red that morning, as Fili was stirred from his slumber buy the shuffling about of the company, Thorin readying them for yet another long day of walking and climbing, he was aware of a strange pink light shining through his lids. And as he stood close to the cliff edge, fields and forests stretching out as far as the eye could see below him, his fingers twitched nervously by his sides. He couldn't forget the old myth he once heard, that when a red sun rises, blood has been spilt. Fili never believed in tales such as that, he thought they were silly superstitions, but now he wasn't so sure. As he stood eyes watching to the cherry-coloured sky, crowded with early morning birds searching for their first meal of the day, he tried to make himself believe that the red sun meant nothing, no blood had been spilt. But however hard he tried, something deep inside him told him something was wrong.

"It doesn't mean anything." Thorin said, coming to stand beside him. He had seen the way his nephew observed the sunrise, muscles stiff and his posture rigid. "It is just an old wives' tale." Fili did not turn to face his uncle, nor did he shift his eyes to stare at him. "And if it's not?" Fili's voice was little more than a whisper and was almost carried away on the breeze. Thorin paused for a moment, and looked towards the sky, the pink light reflecting in his blue eyes. "Then it is not a sign that Kili has been hurt." The exiled king wished he had faith in his statement, but it had been three days since his youngest nephew had been taken prisoner, and there was very little chance that the orcs would have left him unscathed for so long. _'Finding him well? That is quite another thing,'_ he recalled Gandalf saying the previous day, the wise wizard's words lingered in his thoughts. They made his chest feel tight. "What if we don't find him, uncle? Or what if we're too late?" Fili's fists curled and he squeezed his eyes shut, but Thorin saw the tears. "I don't know what I'd do if … if he's…" _Dead_. Fili couldn't even let the word pass his lips, just thinking of it made him feel like he was being torn apart. Simply contemplating that they would not find his little brother alive made him feel like it had already happened. "We will find him, Fili." Thorin said, attempting to sound reassuring. "I promise." _Empty promises_, He thought, he was making a promise he was unsure he could keep.

* * *

At first Kili thought that perhaps he was dead, but the immeasurable pain that he was feeling told him otherwise. When he opened his eyes, dim golden light was bursting through the trees, he was indeed still alive. It was early morning as far as he could tell, there was still a thin layer of mist clinging to the tree roots and most of the orcs were still snoring loudly. It was a colder morning that the ones that had come before it, the air was sharp and sent violent shivers through his weak and aching body. Each shudder caused another wave of pain to assault him. He tried to sit up and straighten his back, but the movement pulled at the lash wounds. He dragged in a sharp, whistling breath through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

For some moments his breathing was shaky and deep as he tried hopelessly to relieve the sting in his torn flesh. When he opened his eyes again, the world around him blurred and swayed for a little while, the fresh light of early morning made him feel slightly lightheaded and dazed. _Blood loss? _He wondered. He remembered Oin talking about how losing a lot of blood could cause these effects, and he supposed a considerable amount of blood had left his body as a result of the harsh, relentless whippings. After a few minutes the trees around him stilled, their thick and strong trunks were as motionless as they normally were. But he still felt weary, and his head felt full of fog. One by one the orcs began to rouse, noisily getting to their feet with loud yawns that bent and twisted their already grotesque faces. Kili listened as they shuffled around, conversing in black speech and cackling amongst themselves as they shared jokes that he was sure was about him. But he didn't look at them, or their wargs that he could hear snarling, but rather tried to pretend that they weren't there.

Azog had been awake long before the others, and was sat watching the dwarf – Kili - intensely, as he had since he had awoken. There was something about Kili that intrigued him. He knew well the stubbornness of dwarves, but this one was particularly staunch. In past times, his prisoners had taken much less time to crack, after only a dozen strokes of the lash they would have been begging for the torture to stop and would start revealing what they knew to prevent another blow. But Kili had remained unwavering for longer than Azog could recall another prisoner ever doing. He wasn't sure whether he was impressed or frustrated. Azog recalled the resolute look in Kili's eyes, his determination to stay silent, and was reminded of another dwarf. An old enemy. _Thorin Oakenshield. _His brow creased and his eyes narrowed as thought hit him like an apple falling from the branches above.

Kili could smell smoke, and turned his head to see that the orcs had lit a small fire on the edge of the camp. His brows creased in confusion. Why did they need a fire when the sun was shining? It was not dark amongst the trees and the sunset was not for hours. At first Kili supposed they were going to eat again and had lit the fire in order to cook, but then he remembered the vile raw meat that he had been force-fed, and how the orcs ate the deer so uncooked that the blood still seeped from the meat and onto their hands. Orcs, it had seemed, did not need to cook their food. And so the reason behind the fire remained a mystery to Kili, unless they planned on burning his trousers and boots too. Kili shifted, biting down on his lip as his back pressed against the tree trunk, now with a bare and lashed back he could feel every notch and bump in the bark. It felt like hard, coarse rock against his skin. He wished that his tunic hadn't been burnt, not only would the fabric had kept the chilly breeze at bay it would have also presented a slight barrier between his back and the tree.

Kili sighed, _Day three_, he thought, although it felt a _lot _longer than three days. It felt like ages ago that he and the company were in Rivendell, even though it was probably less than a week. Yet, he could still remember the way the Elven valley seemed to glisten in the sun, the marble and white rock gleaming as though it was layered with sparking white gems, and the sound of the rushing waterfalls flowing through the vale like ribbons. It was far different from his home in Ered Luin but he found it no less pleasant and inviting – all except the food that was more like the stuff he fed to rabbits. Too green for his liking. He closed his eyes and recalled the last blissful day he could remember, for then came more arduous hiking, thunderstorms and grotesque goblins. And he could not forget the Thunder Battle, he could still see the huge stone giants beneath his lids, he could still see Fili crashing down against the rocks, could still feel the fear and dread in his heart. He had thought his brother dead, and he could not recall a time where he had been so worried and afraid. He wondered if Fili was feeling the same way, wherever he was. Of course he was, Kili only had to scrape his knee and Fili would begin to fret, Fili always worried for him, was always trying to protect him. Although he sometimes found himself irritated with his Fili's fussing, Kili always felt safe when he was with his brother, because he knew Fili would _never _allow him to be harmed. And now, tied to the tree, beaten and bloodied, as the fire began to burn higher, Kili longed for his brother's shielding arms.

Not many moments passed before Gurlak's heavy footsteps and raspy breaths opened Kili's eyes. Bile was there again too, and once again the yellow-skinned orc's fingers twitched excitedly at his sides. Kili's chest tightened in all too familiar unease.

"Time to talk, dwarfling." Gurlak said, untying Kili from the tree and heaving him to his feet. Bile cackled beside him like an overactive child, his feet stamping in the dirt. Kili wondered what the orcs had planned for him this time. He was marched through the orc camp like he had been many times before, and just like before he felt like he was walking towards the gallows and the orcs were lining up to witness. His feet dragged more than they had last time, he had no energy to pick them up. He stumbled over a rock, he would have fallen if it weren't for Gurlak and Bile's hands on his shoulders. But he received a stern shove in the small of his back none-the-less. He bit back a cry as the rough palm of the orc's hands pressed against his wounds.

"Kili." Azog said when he was finally at a standstill. The sound of his name being spoken by the pale orc made Kili's blood run cold, it sounded sharp and cruel. Bile pushed down on his shoulders and he dropped to his knees. "Look at me." Kili obeyed, his worn brown eyes meeting Azog's icy blue ones which were narrow in obvious and intense dislike of the young dwarf. For a moment Azog's lips were a thin line, as though he was considering what to say first, then the orc's sharp, yellow teeth revealed themselves in a malicious, satisfied smile. "Tell me, Kili. Why would Thorin Oakenshield allow a dwarfling to accompany him on such a dangerous journey? Goblin town is perilous for a child, I hear they like to interrogate the youngest first."

_"I'm_ _not a child._" Kili said sternly.

"You're not of age, that I can tell. So what else are you other than a child?" Kili said nothing, his brows knitted together with frustration. Ever since the company had left Bag End, he had been treated like a child, being given menial jobs and being scolded. He did not appreciate being babied, and even now, as an orc prisoner he was being called 'dwarfling.' Azog's eyebrows raised, "You do not like being called that do you, boy? Well, perhaps if you answer my questions I will stop." Kili looked at him and scoffed.

"You're right I don't like being called _child _or _dwarfling_, but that is a terrible deal. If you think I would betray my friends just so you can stop calling me a name, then you are as foolish as you are ugly." Azog's heavily scarred face contorted into an angry glower.

"Very well, we'll do this the hard way." Azog snarled. "Gurlak, hold out the dwarfling's arm." The one-eyed orc complied and straightened Kili's arm in front of him, underside pointing upwards to the afternoon sky, his grip was tight around Kili's wrist. The dwarf's fists curled, his limp tensing.

Azog had walked towards the fire, for a moment Kili thought he was warming himself in front of the flames, the light of which danced across his pale flesh. But then he turned and Kili felt his heart stop mid-beat. In his hand Azog held a long piece of metal which glowed red from the heat of the flames, smoke lifted from the searing hot iron as the monstrous orc returned, a cold smile spreading across his face with each step. Kili desperately tried to back away,

"Now then," Azog said callously before pressing the red-hot metal rod against the skin of inner forearm. Kili screamed out in agony, the pain was like nothing he had never experienced, he could feel his flesh burning and beneath the metal, could hear it scorching and hissing. Kili's howls of torture resonated throughout the camp, accompanied with the delighted cheers and hoots of the orcs and they clapped their hands joyfully, until Azog raised the rod from his prisoner's arm, leaving behind an angry red burn. "Why did Thorin chose a dwarfling to accompany him?" He asked again. Kili said nothing, he bit down on his lip, drawing blood and kept his eyes closed. The burning sensation came again as the scolding hot iron, still glowing a fierce red, was pressed down on his arm again. Kili cried out again, the sound of agony causing half a dozen birds to flee from the trees with loud shrikes. Tears filled his eyes and, despite how tight he kept them shut, threatened to creep down his cheeks with every moment that the metal burnt the tender flesh of his underarm. "You are stubborn, Kili." Azog growled, lifting the rod and turning away, back towards the fire.

Kili breathed deeply, chest rising and falling rapidly, his body trembling, trying to wash away the lingering pain that remained like lazy winter snow that refused to melt when spring came. He hoped beyond hope that there would be no more burns, he didn't want to feel the pain a third time, but he knew it was a fool's hope. He watched, with dread and with eyes blurry with the tears he tried to blink away, as Azog held the iron rod in the fire until it glowed as bright as the flames again. The orc pulled it out and examined it, as though checking to make sure was hot enough, before turning back to Kili once more. With every step the he took closer to him, Kili's heart beat faster, and so hard he thought it would crash through his already broken ribs. He tried to shuffle back where he was knelt, but went nowhere. This time Azog pressed the metal against Kili's abdomen, the rod going from the left side of his chest to the right side of his waist, inches above the edge of his trousers. This was even more unbearable than the pain that had come before, a white hot pain that darkened the edges of his vision and made his head feel full of fog. The high-pitched buzzing in his ears was so loud it blocked out the sound of any screams, but he could feel them by the way his throat stung.

"Tell me Kili," He heard Azog yell as the pressure of the iron was lifted, leaving behind the sensation that the flesh was melting from his bones, "why did Thorin Oakenshield allow you to join him?" _Say something, _Kili shouted inside his head, _anything._ Anything to make the torture stop.

"My bow." He gasped, his voice sounding hoarse. "You saw … my bow, I watched … you inspect it." The words were hard to say, his throat hurt to speak, and every letter left him light headed. "I'm an archer, and Thorin thought I would come in useful." It wasn't all lies, Kili supposed. That, he'd thought, was one of the reasons he was on the journey, and for a moment it seemed like Azog believed him, his eyebrows raising and mouth a thin line.

"Indeed, your bow is of good quality, if useless for us."

"It wasn't made for _orcs_." Kili spat. Azog ignored him.

"And I agree that archers are useful, I have seven with me here. But I do not think that is the _only_ reason." Kili stared up at him. "In fact, I don't believe you at all. Tell me the truth."

"I did."

"_Lies_." Azog hissed. He pressed down the rod again, harder so it burnt deeper into the flesh of Kili's chest.

"Stop, please!" Kili cried.

"The truth, Kili. Tell me the truth!"

'No." Kili shook his head, "I won't!"

The rod was pressed harder, Kili could feel Azog's frustration as though it was heating the iron further. The way the pain spread across his entire aching and weak body he may have well have been thrown in the fire itself. Kili could feel the scolding in all his limbs, it felt like his very bones were being scolded, like his very insides were burning away to ash. He couldn't breathe with the pain and his head was swimming, this, and the blood rushing around his ears, made him feel like he was drowning. When the metal was lifted, Kili's flesh tingled and ached. He felt like he was being assaulted by hundreds of knitting needles like the ones his mother used. He heard the rod fall to the ground with a clatter, the red light had faded and was replaced by a dull, cool grey. Azog knelt in front of him, his eyes level with Kili's, which were finding it hard focus, all light and shape melding together. He panted, dragging in deep, cold breaths. He could taste a mix of smoke and pine on his tongue and could smell burnt flesh.

"Who are you, Kili?" Azog asked.

"What do you mean?" Kili groaned, "You _just said_ my name, you tortured it out of me. I didn't lie, I swear." He stared at Azog through the gaps in his dark hair, which clung to the sweat on his forehead.

"I want to know who you _really_ are. Your weapons weren't the only things I examined, your clothes, before they were burnt, I noticed were finely made. And not made for just _any _dwarf. Why would you have such good-quality garments if you are merely some dwarven archer?" Azog enquired. "Tell me."

"My father is a merchant," Kili lied, the tale coming to him quicker than he thought. "He deals in fabrics, he has produced clothes for the rich and so he comes across fine materials. When he learnt that Thorin wanted me to join him on his journey, my father used the best that he had to make my garments. He wanted me to look smart." For a moment Kili thought he had presented a good enough lie to fool Azog, who simply stared at him, nothing in his expressionless face suggested that he disbelieved Kili's tale. For a moment Kili thought that he had Azog convinced. That was until Azog shook his head. The back of the orc's hand connected with the side of Kili's face.

"I don't believe you." Azog spat. "Do you want to know why?" Kili stared at him, eyes hard and jaw tense. "Because you remind me of him, of Thorin. You remind me too much him for me to believe that you are simply a merchant's son. Are you his kin? Are you his blood?" Something in Kili's eyes must have broken, a glimmer that told Azog what he had already guessed. The orc smiled and Kili's heart stopped. "So you are. What are you, Oakenshield's son?"

"Thorin has no sons." Kili said, hoping to alter what Azog was thinking, he couldn't find out that he was of the line of Durin. It would be a death sentence.

"A nephew then?" Azog's eyebrow's raised, "You could not be the son of the other son of Thror, that runt perished long ago. I do not even recall his name, he was weak and foolish. He deserved the death that came to him." Anger boiled in Kili's gut, he had never met his uncle Frerin, but he recalled the way Thorin and his mother spoke of him, with such love and joy that he felt like he had known him all his life. How dare Azog defile his name!

"Do not speak of my uncle that way!" He snapped, "He was honourable, and worth a hundred of _you_!" Kili's blood run cold, he had given it away. There was only one sibling remaining. And now Azog now.

"So you are offspring of Thorin's sister." Azog cackled. _Well done, Kili, _Kili scolded himself, _fool_. "Then that would make you his heir. Well, well, well."

Azog turned to the orcs, "**_My friends, we have royalty in our presence. The nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, Heir to the throne of Erebor._**" The orcs hissed and jeered, eyes shining. A prince, this made the torture even sweeter to witness. "Tell me, Kili. Are the any other heirs on this company with Thorin?" _Fili_, Kili thought. He could not give Azog any reason to suspect him, he could not bear for Fili to endure the torture he had been subjected to. He would accept a million more lashes and have the scolding iron rod pressed against him until all his flesh had melted away.

"No." He shook his head, "there is only me." _Not Fili, not _Fili_. _

"I hope you are not lying to me, or I shall heat up the rod and bring back the lash."

"No, I swear. My father died before he could produce any more sons or daughters. There is only me." I looked Azog square in the eyes, he did not allow any hint of the lie flash in his own gaze. Azog would _not_, would _never_, harm his brother while he drew breath.

"Very well." Azog said, shrugging. Kili allowed the smallest sigh of relief escape him. His brother was safe, "Only one heir I need. And now I know _exactly _what to do with you." Even if, it seemed, he had sealed his own fate.

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**AN-**

**To make up for the late update (due to the music festival I was at - which was AWESOME btw!) here's a nice (or not so nice if you take it from Kili's perspective) long chapter, mainly of of our favourite Dwarven archer. Poor Kili :( orcs are such meanies. **

**More From Fili next time, promise!**

**As always favourites, follows and ****_especially_**** reviews, are welcome. I love hearing what you think!**


	10. The Pawn

There was a haze hanging over the land, tinting the horizon with a blue hue. The morning had been cold as the company walked, the air of on-coming autumn nipping at their noses and clouding up their breath. After the red sunrise and as the day continued into afternoon, the sun had retreated behind wispy white clouds, appearing occasionally to offer a little warmth and glaring light. The walk was not as dismal as previous days, there was a shared – yet unspoken – feeling that they were getting close. Determination spurred them onwards, pushing them to walk with a quicker pace, chatter resonating throughout those who walked near the back. Fili could here Ori, Bilbo and Bofur talking amongst themselves. But Fili had stayed silent, the thought of the red sunrise remained in his mind. _It is just an old wives' tale_, he told himself. Remembering his uncle's earlier words. Thorin walked close beside him, occasionally conversing with Dwalin, who marched on his right side. Fili listened to them as they spoke – mainly to discuss what direction to take, to climb up through the trees or stay where the ground was flatter, littered lightly with grey rocks. It was decided that the company would follow the forest, they would be more likely to discover the orcs concealing themselves beneath the leaf canopy. And now as the third day crept closer to the forth night, it was crucial that they found Kili soon.

The air was even cooler amongst the trees, whilst the woodland was not as dense at it had been before, the light and warmth of the cloud-obscured sun seemed to find it difficult to reach the group as they walked. The woodland was thick with twisted roots that spouted from the earth to criss-cross the company's path and low hanging branches that threatened to snare them. Twice Bofur had almost lost his hat to their grasp, in the end he resorted to holding it on his head.

"Stupid trees," he huffed, ducking again. Fili looked over his shoulder and smiled ever so slightly, then continued on, following close behind Thorin, who didn't seem to be having much trouble navigating through the challenges of the unruly woodland. Fili made sure to step where he stepped. Fili didn't like this forest. It was cold and something felt … wrong. He found himself looking over his shoulder, into the undergrowth and into the leaves above. He could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. And as the company ventured further into the trees, the chatter coming to a stop – even Bofur's grumbling had ceased, - and the only sounds were that of their footsteps and the cold wind rustling through the foliage, it became apparent to him that he was not the only one who felt uneasy.

* * *

Kili thought Azog was going to kill him there and then. He envisioned the orc driving the metal rod straight through his gut and leave him to bleed dry whilst the others cheered for every drop of blood that settled on the ground. Everything in Azog's shining blue eyes told Kili that it was the end, that he would never see Fili again, and that his promise to his mother, to return to her, would go un-kept. But instead Kili found himself dragged back to the tree, tied up beneath the leaves with the scolded flesh on his arm and chest burning and tingling. He was left to ponder what Azog planned to do with him now that he knew he was Thorin's nephew. _He knew he was Thorin's nephew_. Kili tilted his head back and hit it against the tree trunk. He was such a fool. How could he let Azog get that information? _Fool_. He scolding himself. _Fool, fool, fool_! Kili sighed, self-loathing and disappointment burning in his gut like a furnace, it made his heart hurt, like he had done something truly unforgivable. And he had, he had revealed himself to Azog the Defiler. How could he ever face Thorin now? His uncle was right, he was careless, rash child. He didn't deserve to be on this quest. He didn't deserve to be in the Line of Durin, for children of Durin did not break so easily, they did not let their enemies win. And Azog had won, and Kili had failed. He had failed his uncle, he had failed his friends, and he had failed his brother.

_No! _Something screamed at him from the back of his mind. Suddenly he recalled the look in Azog's eyes when he probed him for answers. Something had twinkled in his icy irises, it pulled at the corners of his mouth in an expectant grin. Azog had _expected _Kili to say what he did, he _expected _Kili to say that he was Thorin's Kin. Kili's head snapped up, his eyes gazing over to where the orc was sat, one leg pulled up with his ankle resting on his knee, watching him intently. Kili's eyes narrowed. _Azog had known, _he thought, _he had already guessed._ The thought snapped him slightly out of his shame, the feeling of disappointment lightening. He had not revealed anything that the orc did not, somehow, already know. But what had given it away? He had never thought himself much like Thorin – though he did try, - his uncle was so much more austere, more steady and wise. Kili often wished he could be like him, and like his ever-dependable and practical brother, but he couldn't for the life of him step away from his immaturity and wildness. He could barely keep a straight face during serious moments. But something from deep inside him must have risen up, perhaps he was more like his uncle than he thought.

After some moments Azog dragged his eyes away from Kili who was still continued to stare at him from across the camp. Azog could feel his dwarven eyes burning into him. But the orc's thoughts turned to a greater prize.

**"****_I _****will****_ have Thorin Oakenshield. I _****will****_ have his head on a spike_**.**"** He said definitely. Gurlak, who was sat beside him, sharpening a knife that he had pulled from his belt, turned his head to look at him.

**"****How?" **For the time that Kili had been tied up, Azog had studied him from where he was sat and came to realise that he had a very important asset indeed. Kili would be the way the pale orc would get what he so desired.

**"****_I have his only heir_**,**"** Azog sneered, **"****_I am sure he will be most eager to have him back. I will make a bargain with him._****"** Gurlak raised an eyebrow and Azog continued. **"****_When we find Oakenshield, I will offer to trade his young nephew's life for his_**.**"**

_"__**How do you know that the dwarf will accept?"**_

**_"_****_If kin is as important to the race of dwarves as I have heard, then Oakenshield should be willing to accept my deal_****." **Gurlak frowned, his eyes flicked from Azog to Kili and back.

**_"_****_And if it is not?"_** He asked, **_"If Thorin does not accept?"_** For a moment Azog was silent, he looked back over at Kili, who had finally averted his gaze and was now gazing into the trees, subconsciously pulling at the ropes that kept him bound, and considered this question. He knew very well that Thorin Oakenshield was stubborn and was not known for surrendering, but he would give himself up for the life of the dwarfling. Wouldn't he?

**_"_****_Then we will kill the boy, and take Oakenshield when his anger and grief overwhelms him."_** He said, **"****_Kili is of no importance to me, it does not bother me whether he lives or dies. He is merely the pawn."_**Azog's eyes narrowed and his brow creased, he crossed his arms over his chest. He _would _have Oakenshield, he had waited long enough.

* * *

Sunset seemed to be come early that day and it got dark quickly under the trees. Whilst the sun still shined brightly in the sky, its golden rays couldn't seem to reach the lower levels of the forest. And as the light began to disappear, so too did the gnarled roots. Thankfully, the path was no longer riddled with hazards, there was nothing now to trip them or ensnare them, and the company were able to travel with greater haste. Fili tilted his head back to look through the gaps in the leaves above, and caught a glimpse of pink clouds against a blue sky. He wanted the trees to end so he could see it properly. He longed for an open plane, for he still felt that the company were not the only ones that were concealed amongst the trees. And an unsettling sound proved him correct, as a cackle suddenly echoed through the woodland, reverberating off the tree trunks and causing the company to freeze, eyes widening. Fili's head snapped in the direction of the sound, just as the laugh came again, more than one this time. He knew to which vile creature the laughter belonged. It was Dwalin, with fists clenched at his sides, who spoke first.

"Orcs."

* * *

**A/N- The company have finally caught up it seems! Hang in there Kili, help is coming ... maybe ;) **

**Unfortionaly, The next part may be a little while because I am busy, busy, busy! I am in the middle of packing, ready to move back to uni and start my second year! (asdfghjkl! I am _very _excited!) And have lots to do now, and when I get there. The first few weeks will be a little hectic. But I'll make it up to you by uploading more than one part next time :)**

**I hope the site doesn't screw with my paragraphs, like it has been lately. **

**As usual, faves, follows and (especially) reviews are welcomed and appreciated. **


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